


Just A Girl From Brooklyn

by ariadne_odair



Series: Walk Through Hell With A Smile [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Peggy Carter, Bucky Barnes Feels, F/M, Female Steve Rogers, Genderbending, Protective Bucky Barnes, Stephanie Rogers - Freeform, Steve Rogers Feels, the Howling Commandos are awesome big brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 33,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe wars are won by men, but Stephanie Rogers is getting to that front line one way or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yeah, about that

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [來自布魯克林的女孩](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731161) by [Cyaegha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyaegha/pseuds/Cyaegha)



Of the five enlistment rooms Steve has been in, this is definitely the most depressing.

The walls are a dull brown, the chairs hard, recruitment posters on the walls peeling and fading, barely clinging on. There is a definite lack of Uncle Sam spirit.

The men aren’t exactly inspiring either.

Steve turns a page of the newspaper, feeling the familiar pang of guilt as the article cites the death toll of the brave men overseas.

“Almost makes you think twice about signing up doesn’t it?” the man beside Steve says, and Steve snaps out of the reverie.

The man beside Steve is portly and short, his blue eyes watery. He’s staring at the front page, the morbid headline spilling onto even more horror.

“Steven Rogers?”

“No,” Steve says coolly to the man, putting down the newspaper, and moving over to the man who called Steve’s name out.

He’s in a white coat, and trails one finger down Steve’s enlistment form. Steve fights the urge to shuffle like an errant schoolboy.

“What did your father die of?” he asks, crisp and business like. He looks up expectantly at Steve.

Steve swallows and replies without hesitation. “Mustard gas. He was in the 170th infantry.”

The man looks at him with assessing eyes, then hands him back the form. He nods approvingly. “That all looks fine.”

Steve resists the urge to skip with joy, on the grounds it would be inappropriate.

“Right, you just have to go do your medical and then we’ll be shipping you out to England before you know it,” the man says, smiling briefly at Steve before examining the next form.

Steve stares at him, jaw dropped, eyes wide. Those three words resonating like a drum beat.

Do. Your. Medical.

“Medical?” Steve croaks, voice hoarse. Steve’s heart is beating a frantic tempo in Steve’s chest, and it’s hard to breathe.

“Yes, just follow Dr Hurst, “ the man says, flicking Steve a cursory glance, before calling the next name. “Christopher Evans?”

Steve turns and sees what is presumably Dr Hurst. He’s plump, with a white moustache, and a clipboard in one hand. He looks a little like Father Christmas.

Right now he could be Charlie Chaplin and Steve wouldn’t follow him.

Dread begins to curl in Steve’s stomach.

Steve has no choice though, and wordlessly trails into a white room. There is a medical bed that Steve slumps down onto and various medical instruments.

Dr Hurst ticks a few items off his clipboard then beams at Steve. Steve feels even worse.

“Now, we just have to do a medical, to check you're fit and healthy. Though I’m sure a strapping young man like yourself will have no problem at all."

He turns around, holding a stethoscope. “Now, if you could take off your shirt?”

Steve looks at Dr Hurst, at his round, red beaming face. Steve looks down at the thick woolen jumper Steve is wearing, scratchy and way too big.

“Yeah,” she sighs, “About that...”


	2. With our backs to the wall, darkness will fall

Steve - Stevie, she doesn’t have to pretend anymore, pushes herself up from the ground, and brushes the dirt off her hands.

On the bright side, she’s never been called a ‘she-devil’ before. That was new. Unfortunately, the being thrown out of an enlistment office? That she’s done. Five times infact.

Sighing, she grabs her bag of clothes, thankful she had the presence of mind to bring them. Ducking into an alley, she pulls off the itchy wig and lets her mousy brown hair fall around her shoulders.

Disgustedly she pulls off the scratchy jumper, wiggling out of the trousers. It’s not particularly safe or sanitary changing in an alley, but she can’t walk around in men’s clothes for the rest of the night.

As she dumps the clothes in the bag, and straightens her faded blue dress, Stevie reflects on how her life resulted in cross dressing and being called a “soul-sucking wench." She leans against the wall, and thinks.

When Stevie was a little girl, her father died in the great war, a few months before she was born. Mama says it was almost the end of the war, he'd almost come home.

Stevie didn't know what to say to that, and she didn't know what to say when she caught her Mama tracing the words of a tear stained letter.

When Stevie was a little older, her mother got sick and passed away.

Her memories are full of soft hands and frail bones, whispered lullabies in her ear. She remembers deft fingers plaiting her hair, and a bed time story every night.

Here's the other thing.

Stevie is not pretty.

Her hair is the colour of dishwater, and she has curves but she's skinny from time at the orphanage. Her eyes are nice, she supposses, but they're small, and fellas aren't exactly lining up to gaze in them.

Which is why, for her whole life she's been bullied or ignored or defered to by men. She's been called every derogatory name under the sun and then some more. Stevie never had the best response to bullies, meaning the taunts never really stopped.

So when people ask her why she isn't married yet, Stevie gets pretty damn furious.

Society expects her to settle down, and have lots of children and have dinner ready every day at five. To do the washing and the cleaning and perform her - her _marital duties._

Stevie never learnt to simper or bat her eyelashes or laughs at men's jokes, whilst other women navigated those waters so so easily.

So seeing as she has neither looks or money, Stevie will most likely have to beg, plead and settle for a tubby, ginger, vile man who expects her to cook his meals and darn his socks and bear many snotty, ginger haired brats.

And quite frankly, Stevie doesn't want to go down for homicide.

She's spent her whole life fighting against the bullies, and now she's going to have get on her knees to secure her future. It's not fair, it's not right, and Stevie sure as _hell_   isn't wasting her life like that.

Her father died protecting America's freedom, and her mother died protecting Stevie as much as she could. She's not going to bow to the people that have mocked her her whole life, and tarnish that blessing.

Which is where the army comes in.

Stevie knows that every day more men are laying down their lives for her. Her town, her country, her freedom. She sees young, healthy men leave and scarred, broken men return. If they do return at all.

Somewhere, a little Stevie loses her father or her brother or her best friend every day this terrible war continues. She sees imperceptible tremors and blank eyes and missing limbs.

She sees funeral processions and crying widows, and knowing eyes of children that have seen too much.

Stevie looks at her future, as bleak and hard as the New York rain, this stiffling, guilded cage she's supposed to hop into. The future she doesn't even want, while those soldiers have their futures torn from them.

Originally, she had tried to be a nurse. She’d looked after Bucky enough times, and he was a complete cry baby when he was ill. She'd actually be _helping_ and her mother had been one.

Which has been the deciding piece actually; her mother had been one. Stevie had breathed one sniff of that clinical, clean smell and the next moment was running out the door.

She’d lent with her back against the wall, breathing heavily. All she could see was her mother's tired face, her soft eyes and Stevie knew working there would unbearable. Constantly reliving the one thing that she could never have.

More and more men die overseas in cataclysms of heat and fire, in a hail storm of bullets and bombs. Stevie goes to dances with Bucky and inevitably spends the whole night against the wall, and the guilt twists and twists and twists.

She sees the calluses of the washer women, and sits through date after date, and meanwhile dark hands drag bodies under murky water.

One night, she closes her eyes and sees her mother and father on the back of her eyelids. She hears the roar of engines and the crackle of fire, and interwoven into this mess, the soft humming of her mother's lullabies.

The next day she steals Bucky's clothes, buys a wig and marches to the enlistment office as Steven Rogers.

She gets thrown out, and the harsh street scrapes her palms, but it's a good pain because she's finally doing what's _right_.

 

 

 

 

"Hey doll, you looking for a trip round the block?"

One unfortunate side effect of getting changed in alleys is as you leave, lots of people mistake you for a two piece whore.

Stevie grits her teeth, adjusts her dress and tries to think happy thoughts.

"Pal, she has a face like a dog, she can't be choosy!"

Derisive jeers echo in Stevie's ears. She forces herself to keep walking, her shoes clicking against the cobbled street.

"That bird is so ugly, she'd have to pay us for a tumble in the hay."

Stevie freezes.

She feels the intimate rush of anger, warm and quick, flooding through her veins.

The two men are leaning against the wall. Piggy faces cruel and mocking, embittered by the fruitless future in front of them, that includes but is by no means limited to obesity, alcoholism and the constant refusal of every lady in New York.

The one with greasy hair and brutish eyes sniggers. "Hey darling, change your mind?"

Stevie takes a deep breath, and smiles at them, wide and teeth showing.

"You're right," she says, tone the epitome of pleasant. "I am choosy."

She shrugs innocently. "I happen to prefer a certain standard of hygiene, chubby, balding alcoholics aren't my thing and I don't date tramps."

There is a stunned silence. The men's mouths are gaping open, which does nothing to make them appear more intelligent.

Stevie practically beams. "Have a nice day."

She's lucky they don't pursue her, which happens frequently, but these fools seem too dumbstruck to be capable of movement. Stevie walks away, unable to stop the strut in her stride.

More times than she can count, men have laughed and called her cruel names. They've never physically hurt her, but the words always seep deep into her skin, forming scars.

Seeing as the alternative is to spend her night replaying the barbs over and over in her head, Stevie decides to savor her small victory.


	3. baby, be with me so happily

So here's the thing.

Bucky thinks that she does embroidery.

Whenever she comes home with scratches on her hands from being thrown out of enlistment offices, she tells him those damn thimbles are out to get her.

Keeping a straight face while saying that is a serious challenge.

Thankfully, Bucky is more interested in getting his pants off for the girls than how girls make pants, because if Bucky knew she was trying to sign up for the army he would go absolutely loony.

He would start shouting about "sacrifice" and "responsibility" and "God Stephanie, what are you doing?" because he only uses her full name when he's really mad.

Bucky is always protecting her, ever since the first time at the orphanage when some boys called her ugly and a freak. Bucky hit them with a baseball bat.

So it's probably not a good idea to pick your pals on their homicidal tendencies, but seeing as Stevie is skulking round in drag she can't really comment.

Bucky's been looking out for her from then on. He's her best friend, always dragging her out of trouble and more often than not dragging her in to it. They've been inseparable ever since that day, and the moment they could they left the orphanage and rented an apartment. It's tiny and creaky, and Stevie has to put in long hours at the cloth factory but it's home.

As they got older and Bucky got more and more handsome, Stevie assumed he would leave. It was almost clinical really; everyone else had, so why wouldn't he?

But instead Bucky would spend the night with whatever doe eyed beauty he'd charmed, and then come back the next morning with lipstick stains and smelling of exotic perfume.

He'd make scrambled eggs, which he loves and Stevie hates, and tell her all the sordid details, until she threatened to kick him out. He would just laugh and go "Stevie, those _legs_ , " and burn his eggs reminiscing.

There's never been anything romantic between them because Stevie gets the impression Bucky thinks of her as a little sister. Or a blonde gerbil. Either way, Bucky's the only family Stevie has and Stevie is the only family Bucky has.

Speak of the devil.

"Stevie!"

Stevie turns, ready to smile at Bucky, and stops.

Bucky's ruly brown hair is covered by a green hat. His brown eyes are highlighted by the crisp, moss colored uniform that encases his fit, lean body.

"Hey, come on, we've got a double date remember?" Bucky grins, that lazy smile that made Rosa Lane swoon last week.

"You got your orders," Stevie says, but her voice is strange and alien to her ears. Her heart is beating against her ribs, as if it's fighting to get out. She stares at the uniform, the cap, his completed order form crumpled in his hand.

Bucky does a quick salute and Stevie feels her stomach lurch.

"Sergeant James Barnes. 107th infantry. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow," he says with his lazy smirk, and his smart brown eyes, and Stevie wants to cry.

Bucky can obviously tell, because his expression falters, corners of his lips drooping. He clears his throat and tries for a jovial tone. "Hey, I'm sure while I'm gone a guy will come and sweep you off your feet."

Their eyes meet, blue into brown, and it's like they're both reaching out and trying desperately to meet. He's trying to say _you knew, you knew I was signing up_ , and she's trying to say she did, _she did_ , but they can't. They can't, because if you say it will come true and Bucky really will be leaving and she really will be alone.

"I don't think so, Bucky," Stevie says quietly, pushing down the familiar pang of resentment and hurt.

Bucky's eyes narrow, and he gets that bull headed look on his face Stevie knows so well.

"Stevie, why do you always say that? I don't under-"

"No, you don't understand!" Stevie snaps, anger and bitterness spilling out into her voice. Regret crashes through her almost immediately, and she clasps a hand over her mouth.

"I'm so sorry Bucky, I didn't mean to snap at you, I'm an idiot," she babbles frantically, words tripping over her tongue in the haste to get them out.

Bucky just shakes his head, and gives her a tentative grin. "You'll be alright Stevie," he says, and he's smiling again. He gives her a conspiratorial wink.

They both know he's acquiesced too easily, but right now they can't, they won't cross that bridge.

"You may find a fella tonight you know, finally settle down," Bucky continues, amusement in his eyes forcing down any other emotion. Stevie plays along, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach in favor for one last night.

She rolls her eyes good naturedly. "Yeah, maybe. Who did you set me up with this time?"

Bucky laughs, and slings an arm around her shoulders. Unconsciously Stevie settles further into his warmth, and Bucky tightens his arm a little. Bucky always smells really good, and he teasingly runs his fingers down the end of her plait.

"We are going to the future, so it's a gooda time as any to be thinking about yours."

"That ever actually work on the dames?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Astonished."

"The dames usually are."

Stevie laughs, and takes the newspaper Bucky gives her. On the front in big letters are the words _Stark Expo_. There are lights and machines, and it looks like something out a fairy tale.

"So, what did you tell him about me?" Stevie asks, tone conversational as she scans the paper.

"Only the good stuff," Bucky replies casually. "I'm going with Lola Farris."

Stevie stops in the middle of the street, and turns to Bucky. He raises one eyebrow questionably.

"Lola Farris, as in Lola Farris with blonde hair and red lipstick, and all the guys talk about her legs?" Stevie blurts, the familiar feeling of dread and resignation setting in.

Bucky wolf whistles. "Seriously Stevie, those pins go all the way up."

Stevie kicks the pavement, and starts walking again.

"Swell," she says flatly. "That's just swell."

 

 

 

 

 

Bucky introduces her to Arnold. Arnold has brown hair, squinty eyes and wants to be a banker. Thank you for that Bucky.

"I like your dress Lola," Stevie compliments politely, because it is a nice dress and manners don't cost anything. She gives Lola a friendly smile.

Lola Farris with her hair in perfect ringlets and her ruby red lips, gives Stevie a look over and quirks her lips up into a condescending smirk.

Stevie tries very hard not to punch Lola or Arnold. Oh, and it doesn't matter what Stevie's wearing or thinking or wants to be, because Lola blinks her kohl rimmed eyes and Stevie might as well be invisible.

This is what happens every time Bucky tries to set her up.

He brings some beautiful dame with big eyes and long legs and dyed hair, and Stevie's date takes one look, and spends the entire date talking to Penny or Jenny or Sally or whoever, and Stevie spends the entire night wanting to go home.

Lola is currently performing a very interesting manoeuvre with her dress, which Stevie thinks she's supposed to be pulling up, but is in fact only flashing more of her milky white bosom.

On second thoughts, that's probably the point. Bucky and Arnold are transfixed. Arnold looks more animated than he has all night. For her own amusement, Stevie decides to see how out of it Arnold and Bucky really are.

"I'm a crazed murderer you know," she says loudly.

"I keep the bodies in our apartment."

"My next victim is a wussy, squinty eyed wannabe banker and a brunette army recruit."

Lola flips her golden locks in an action she must have practiced in front of the mirror, and lets out a musical little laugh.

Stevie sighs.

 

 

 

 

The flying car is impressive.

So is Howard Stark, though Stevie's a little more skeptical of him. He's flashy and charming, but he evidently believes he's the bees knees.

After the car has crashed back down, Lola turns to Bucky and bats her eyelashes coyly.

"Wouldn't it be swell it we went dancing?" she gushes, clasping her hands in front her, perfectly filed nails painted red.

Bucky slings an arm round Lola's shoulders. "Whatever you say doll face,"

"Yeah Lola, that sounds like the cats pajamas!" Arnold wheezes, face red with the effort of keeping Lola's attention.

Stevie has seen Bucky in full charm mode, and feels a pang of sympathy for Arnold. He doesn't stand a chance. She shuffles her feet, clutching her bag. She doesn't really want to go dancing with Lola. Then Bucky turns to her, and his eyes look gold from the light of the Expo. He grins at her, and Stevie feels something twist in her stomach.

Yeah. She's going dancing with Lola.

Stevie trails after them, trying hard to be optimistic. They'll have a grand time, she'll laugh at Arnold's bad jokes and smile at Lola and maybe she'll even dance.

Stevie is so busy lying to herself, she doesn't even notice the young man until she smacks into him. Strong hands encircle her elbows, and she instinctively jerks back.

"Whoa little darling, didn't mean to spook ya," a warm voice says, and Stevie finds herself looking into laughing hazel eyes.

The guy straightens up, and hands her her bag which had been knocked to the floor. Stevie can feel her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry. That was my fault," she jabbers, "I really didn't mean to smack into you."

She's sure she's red as a tomato by now, and she clutches her bag desperately, eyes averted to the ground in mortification.

"No problem," the guy grins, and then with a nod he's gone.

Stevie watches him go.

He heads towards the brown, bland recruitment office.

Stevie can barely breathe, the guilt is choking her so badly. She inhales slowly, trying to fight the lead heavy feeling in her gut.

"Hey, Stevie!"

Bucky's voice snaps her out of it. He's frowning at her, handsome face confused. Stevie can see Arnold drooling over Lola from here.

"Come on," Bucky wheedles, tone light. "You're missing the point of a double date."

"I have women's troubles," Stevie blurts.

Bucky recoils instantly, eyes widening, hands held up in front of him as if to ward away the taboo of female hygiene.

"Do you think you should go to the Doctor?" he asks awkwardly, shuffling his feet. "You got that the last two dates."

The pained expression and the fact he's almost squirming nearly makes Stevie admit she hasn't had women troubles three weeks in a row, she just needed an excuse to go home early.

"No, I'm just going to go home," she says tightly, and Bucky nods, relieved.

It's then Stevie's hit with the horrible realization that this is it. Bucky is leaving tomorrow. To go to war.

She sees Bucky screaming, laying motionless on a dirty field, the blazing fire as vibrations rock the ground. His brown eyes glassy and unseeing. She sees a official letter on cream paper, with the words "I'm sorry to announce..."

Before she knows what she's doing, she's wrapping her arms round him, burying her face in his hair, standing on tip toe to reach. He smells like pine and leather and soap. He hugs her back, arms strong and powerful and drops a kiss on her hair, light as a feather.

She pulls back reluctantly, and swallows, clenching her fists.

Bucky clears his throat and gives her a weak smile. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone okay?"

Stevie laughs feebly. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

Bucky gives her a lopsided smile. "Jerk."

"Punk," Stevie replies automatically, but her voice is rustier than she would like to admit. Bucky reaches out and touches her cheek with his hand, knuckles gently trailing down the side of her face.

"Stay safe, I want to see you again when I get back," he murmurs and there's one last glimpse of those gorgeous eyes, and he turns on his heel.

Stevie watches him saunter off, hears Lola's ridiculous laugh, sees Arnold scurry like a crab trying to catch up. She touches her cheek, frowning, then shakes her head. She turns on her heel and heads for the recruitment office.


	4. Have you noticed the breasts?

Stevie would like to say pretending to be a man and sneaking into a recruitment office is fiendishly difficult, but it’s not.

She borrows some of Bucky’s clothes, ones that are loose and baggy. She buys a wig and claims it's for a balding uncle. She didn’t want to cut her hair short, because it would suspicious and she likes it longer. It’s easier to plait, which makes her feel a little closer to her mother.

Also, like she's the only one lying on her enlistment form. She sees young men - no more than boys really, full of false bravado and swagger. Zealously boasting of how they'll take down 'that bastard Hitler.' Mostly they get turned away, but sometimes after 'a walk around the block', they're miraculously born two years earlier.

It's a depressing sign of how desperate they are, ushering in children and dames.

Lying to Buck is harder, but she normally just distracts him with something shiny, like the brunette that works at the coffee shop round the corner. She knows Bucky well enough to be able to hide things from him. He's been busy recently, trying to enlist himself, and there is a war on. Stevie's good enough to be able to throw up a facade, especially when it's not permenent.

(She hates lying to him, though. He'll smile at her, that cheeky grin, and say things like "Stevie, Stevie baby, pass me the salt," and she'll feel like the worst kind of jerk.)

It’s probably unwise to try this twice in one day but she freely admits she’s not exactly thinking straight. She’s too busy trying to force down any feelings, or emotions or thoughts linked to Bucky leaving. It's like she's being tossed around in the waves and she's fighting to keep her head above water.

She goes through the normal procedure, marching up to the official with all the right swagger and attitude. He nods, checks her form (she’s from Colorado, she’s always wanted to see the mountains), and directs her to the room where she’ll be examined.

It’s like any other, bland and unassuming. Whitewash walls and a small medical bed. Stevie has just sat down when the door opens. The men who enters is short with silver glasses and dark hair. He looks haunted, with deep circles under his eyes.

“I am Dr.Erskine,” he announces, and his voice has a German accent. He notices Stevie’s stare and adds, “I am from Augsburg, in Germany. Where do you come from, Miss Rogers?”

Stevie sighs and pushes herself off the bed. She reluctantly takes off the wig, blind to the fear of Dr Erskine’s reaction. It’s been a long day and she was found out again and Bucky’s leaving tomorrow. She feels tired and numb, and this was a stupid idea anyway.

“No please, do not leave,” Erskine says, and he gestures for her to sit back down.

“What? Why?” Stevie asks defensively, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. She instinctively steps back a little, stance protective.

Dr Erskine slowly takes a seat in one of the wooden chair. He gazes at her, and his eyes are deep and sad and soulful.

“I am not going to arrest you, Miss Rogers, or call the authorities. I just wished to ask you a few questions,” Erskine continues, and his voice is even and serious.

Stevie blinks at him, brow furrowed. Cautiously she lowers herself back onto the bed. He hasn’t kicked her out, nor is he screaming for the police. Maybe he thinks she’s mad. He is a Doctor.

“Do you want to kill Nazis?”

She wasn’t expecting that.

She eyes him incredulously, but he’s still wearing that same sombre expression. She swallows.

“Is this a test?” she asks, and is proud her voice is rock solid.

Erskine nods. Stevie lifts her chin slightly, and thinks. She has a feeling this answer is important, and in that case all she can do is answer truthfully.

“I don’t want to kill anyone, but I don’t want to be stifled into a loveless marriage where all I am is a housewife. Not when brave men are laying down their lives. That’s not fair, not when I could be doing so much more.”

Erskine nods again, and Stevie gets the impression she didn’t completely screw it up. He leans forward, hands on his knees.

“I can offer you a chance, and only a chance,” he begins, and his eyes dark and intent.

“A chance at what?” Stevie demands. “The army? You realize I’m a women right? Did you not notice the breasts?”

The moment she’s said that, she blushes, mortified. Erskine just laughs, not cruelly but softly, like an old Grandfather would laugh at a little boy’s jokes.

“I noticed. I also noticed you do not seem like a woman who would make a very good housewife,” he returns, eyes sparkling with humor and hope.

Stevie shakes her head ruefully. When she speaks again, her voice shakes her little, and she clenches her fist hard enough that her nails leave marks. “You can really do this? You can convince the army to let me in?”

Erskine shrugs, and runs a hand over his head. “I can offer you one chance. It is part of a bigger project. If you pass the training, I will explain it further.”

He takes off his glasses and cleans them on his shirt. “I am not joking, Miss Rogers. You have tried to enlist five times. That is not the act of an ordinary woman.”

He slips his glasses back on, and looks at her. “I wish to give you the chance to prove how extraordinary you are.”

Stevie cocks her head to one side, and bites her lip. He doesn’t look crazy, and she can’t see anyone making this up. She fights to push down the hope and elation that’s rising inside her.

She thinks of Bucky laughing as he makes breakfast. The aching loneliness of the now one tenant apartment. The scrape of stone on her palms.

Very slowly, Stevie reaches out her hand. Erskine raises one eyebrow, then cottons on and shakes it. A slow smile begins to spread across Stevie’s face, until she’s beaming.

Erskine smiles back. “We have so many big men fighting this war. Maybe it’s time for a woman.”


	5. There was a time, when they used to say..

Army bases are _big_.

The next morning, after packing her bags, a sleek, black car picks her up. Stevie is pretty sure a car that nice has never been sighted in Brooklyn before, but no one keys it so it’s okay.

The arm base is in Virginia. Huge, earthy pine trees and mossy rocks surround it. There are grey constructed buildings everywhere, a mess hall, sleeping areas, offices. They are both impressive and foreboding.

Everywhere there is a dirty, dusty, tan earth, well worn into running paths and training areas. Huge expanses of ground, forged by sweat and blood, and thousands and thousands of footsteps.

In Brooklyn, you can experience exotic wildlife like the pigeon, and the climate is a beautiful mix of chilling rain and choking smog.

It’s fair to say Stevie is a little thrown.

Army bases are also full of _men_.

Men in smart uniforms, barking orders. Men running in perfect, symmetrical lines. Men doing push-ups, or sit-ups, or crunches. Men driving vehicles, or shooting at targets.

Fat men, thin men, men in uniform, men in very little. Blonde men, brunette men, redheaded men. Men with blue eyes, men with green eyes, men with glasses.

It’s fair to say there is a lot of men.

Stevie slips out the car, in her green khakis and her white t-shirt that’s too big, and she stands out like a sore thumb. The men’s reaction to Stevie is one of three:

  1. Giving her a once over, deeming her not good enough, and smirking.
  2. Giving her a once over, deeming her an embarrassment, and smirking.
  3. Giving her a once over, deeming her invisible, and smirking.



Yeah, Stevie feels right at home.

“Miss Rogers?”

Stevie turns to see a young man with black hair in a green uniform.

He’s smirking. Hands up if you're surprised.

“Miss Rogers, welcome to Fort Pine. Dr Erskine called us.” The man’s face is a picture of arrogance and condescension. “Just to make this clear, you’ll be following the same routine as our other recruits. Go line up over there.”

The man says this with the same derogatory smile, as if she’s a little girl lost in Central Park. Stevie swallows the urge to punch him, nods and heads over to where the other recruits are lined up.

If she were a man, the Sergeant would bark orders, but she’s a woman so she has to be handled with kid gloves because of her delicate, feminine sensibilities.

Taking orders from someone because they’re a higher rank than she is? Fine.

Taking orders from someone who thinks they’re a higher rank than she is because of her gender? Not so much.

As she makes her way to other recruits, she can feel every eye on her. She resolutely looks straight ahead, unconsciously rubbing her thumb over her new dog tags. The cool metal soothes her.

The next moment, her stomach lurches and she’s sprawling in the dirt. Her hands are scraped, and there’s dust everywhere, making her eyes stream. Pushing herself up, she realizes someone had tripped her.

Brushing down her uniform, she turns to glare at the guy who gave her a dirt nap. The guy’s tall and muscular, his eyes are small and piggy, and he has the look of every bully Stevie has ever come across.

“Down on your knees so soon, doll?” he jeers, and the other men snigger. “It’s where you belong. I didn’t order a freak show.”

He arrogantly flicks some of his tawny hair out his eyes. Stevie gives him her best apple pie smile.

“Preying on my gender so soon? You should really work on your confidence issues. All that hatred must be overcompensating for something.”

Stevie deliberately trails her eyes down to the man’s trousers. The brute’s eyes widen in shock, and some of the other men seem to be having a fit over the preposterous idea an ugly duckling could bite back.

Stevie takes her place in line, ignoring the whispers and mutters of the other men. The palms of hands are smarting, her throat constricting at the up kick of dust.

“Recruits, attention!”

Stevie immediately snaps to attention, shoulders straightening and chin forced up before she even notices the voice is English. Moreover - female?

A very beautiful woman is standing before them, with chestnut brown curls and red lips. She looks strong and determined, and very, very pretty.

Is it petty that Stevie decides she hates her on sight because she’s so beautiful?

“I am Agent Carter. I will be overseeing your recruitment process,” Agent Carter continues in her plummy, rich voice.

She walks up and down the line, meeting Stevie’s eyes but not giving anything away.

“Hey, Queen Victoria? What’s with the accent? I thought I was signing up for the US army?”

Steve groans. Predictably, it's the soldier from before. One dame has already showed him up; he can’t afford to be made a fool of by another. Especially as she's not a true blue Yank.

Agent Carter narrows her eyes, and moves in front of him. “What’s your name soldier?”

“Gilmore Hodge, your Majesty,” the oaf brays.

Carter’s eyebrows rise. “Put your right foot forward Hodge.”

Hodge does, a smarmy look on his face. “You feeling frisky? Cause I go some moves I know you’ll-“

Carter punches him in the face.

Stevie cracks up, which she immediately has to smother. Hodge scrambles up, cheeks flushed.

Carter gives Stevie a discrete wink. Stevie decides Agent Carter could be Helen of Troy if she wanted; she’s her new best friend.

“Agent Carter, breaking in the new recruits I see?”

A strong, low voice calls across the grounds. Stevie looks over to see a strong, stern man in army uniform. His medals mark him as a Colonel, and his eyes are hard like those who have seen the front lines.

“Get your ass out of that mud,” the man barks, and the impression you don’t want to mess with him is tangible.“Get back in that line, and don’t speak until you’re spoken to.”

Although it is funny to see Hodge act like a puppy that has chewed the slippers, Stevie doesn’t exactly get the urge to make the Colonel a friendship bracelet.

“Listen up,” the Colonel orders, “General Patton says wars are fought with weapons, but won by men.” He patrols up and down. “We are going to win this war, because we have the best-“

He pauses in front of Stevie, and sucks in a deep breath. Stevie gets a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The Colonel gives her a look that is mixed with impatience, frustration and irritation.

“-men. And they’re going to get better.” he finishes dryly. He continues to pace, ignoring Stevie as if that is the most painless option.

“Our goal is to create the greatest army in history. A new breed of super soldier. They are going to win this war, and personally escort Adolph Hitler, to the gates of hell.”

The speech is uplifting and motivating it truly is. However, when Stevie sees the looks on other men's faces, this doesn't exactly seem like a team building exercise.

More like a hit squad.

 

 

 

 

 

The sleeping quarters are probably double the size of Stevie's apartment, but they seem smaller due to all the men in there.

Stevie gently places her meagre belongings on the narrow, rectangular bed and runs a hand over the worn, green blanket. She's at the very end of the row, because no one seems to want to sleep next her to her. If anything, that's a blessing in disguise.

She decides to have a shower - the guy on patrol had given her a seperate time slot, though she's not really sure who's benefit that is for. Grabbing her army issued white towel, she makes her way down to the bathroom.

It's weird being in the giant shower block completely alone. It's a multiperson block, and it's creepy and silent with no one else there. She hums a few bars of _Only_ _Forever_ and washes with a bar of rock hard soap. It's been a surreal day, and the water -albeit luke warm and spluttering- is soothing on her scalp.

She can't believe she's really here at Fort Pine, an army recruit with the dog tags to prove it. She keeps expecting someone to drag her out of there. She can't help grinning in exhilaration.

She reaches for her towel and wraps it around her, as the shower cuts out after it's regulation five minutes. The towel is scratchy as she dries her face, so she scrambles for her clothes.

They're not there.

She searches desperately, feeling every nook and cranny. Water drips down her back and she shoves damp hair out of her eyes impatiently as she reaches behind the sink.

She rests her head against the fogged up mirror as relisation sinks in. They're not there. She must have misplaced them.

Or someone took them.

And it wasn't Flash Gordan.

Stevie grits her teeth and tightens her towel.

 

 

 

 

There's cat calls and wolf whistles when she strides into the room. Two men fall off the bed. One man drops the match he was lighting for a smoke and has to stamp it out.

This may have something to do with the fact Stevie is still in her towel.

She storms down the aisle to her bed like a whirling dervish, paying no heed to them. There, surprise surprise, are her clothes. How could they have got there.

Stevie can feel the fury spread through her as she sees even her underwear splayed across her thin pillow. It's like an itching under her skin, driving her crazy, insurmountable and unfathemable.

Taking a deep breath, she scoops them up her arms. She whips round and strides to where Hodge is sleeping. He's the picture of boredom, lounging on his bed, carelessly flicking through a book.

He looks up at her, eyes widened in bewilderment at a juxtaposition with the arrogant curve of his lip. He yawns and stretches his arms out above his head.

"Can I help you, Lady Liberty?"

The men around him are watching on with glee, riveted like the vultures they are. Stevie leans in very close to Hodge, close enough to see his eyes widen in real shock before he formulates a cocky jab. Stevie cuts him off.

"Listen you sadistic little pig," Stevie hisses, "I grew up in the orphanage in the middle of the depression, in the roughest part of Brooklyn. There were at least six different occasions when I should have _died_. "

"My future was to become a bored housewife to a fat, balding Neanderthal and go through one of the most excruciatingly painful experiences in the world repeatedly to give him thousands of snotty nosed children. If you think I'm going to give this chance up for a crude, sexist, unhygenic BULLY, then you have another thing coming."

Hodge's jaw is hanging open and he's pushed himself back on the bed as far as possible. There is a complete silence in the bunk, as every man holds his breath, not daring to breath.

Stevie straightens her shoulders, and steps back. She stalks out the room to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.


	6. I'll make a man out of you

Crawling under a wire with a rifle is hard.

Stevie's back aches from her heavy backpack. Her lower back twinges as she tries to get even closer to the ground. Barbed wire has already caught on her hair, ripping out a few strands. She doesn't know how, but she's covered in mud, her hands, her face, her uniform. She can even taste it in her mouth, acrid and mothy.

Stevie kinda loves it.

It's the freedom of using her body like this, that exhilaration of ripping away those restraints.

It's more than that though. It's the knowledge that one day this will help her save people, help her change something. She knows she sounds naive, but not to use the same card again she's a depression orphan. She's not a stranger to misery and death.

Which is when one of Hodge's cronies kicks the post down and it collapses on top of Stevie.

"Rogers, get my rifle out of the mud!"

 

 

 

 

The next day they have to scramble over a giant assault course. They are supposed to be in teams and Stevie ends up being lumped in with a group that clearly don't want her. They have to climb across some precarious wooden slats, that are above a dirty, muddy ditch.

"I'll go last. I'm lighter, so it'll hold my weight even after all of you have crawled across," Stevie volunteers. Her team all grumble assent, then go back to ignoring her.

Her team are all on the other side, and Stevie's in the middle of the plank, when one of her team kicks the wood. There's a moment where she's free falling, and then she lands straight into the ditch.

The water is frigid and scummy and _vile_. It gets everywhere, down her top, the cracks in her shoes, her hair, her feet. It's dripping down her back, down her socks, and it smells putrid.

Stevie tries very hard not to scream.

Later, when she's ringing the water out of her bra, Agent Carter comes up to her. Her hair's pinned back, and her painted lips are curled in a sympathetic smile. Stevie smiles back wryly.

"Guys in England drop you in rivers Ma'am?" she asks.

Carter laughs. "Only if the swimming pool is full."

There's a curious inflection in her tone, and Stevie can tell by the rare show of emotion that she's reliving a memory. Maybe she has a sweetheart back in England. That's nice. Stevie doesn't really know Agent Carter, but she deserves to be happy.

Stevie grins. "Chlorine or mouldy leaves? Tough choice."

Agent Carter delicately sits on the one of the overturned boxes. She straightens her skirt, and eyes Stevie assesingly.

"It's very brave, what you're doing," she says quietly.

Stevie blinks in surprise. "I just wanted to help. Not waste my life," she replies softly, "But thank you Agent Carter."

Carter just smiles again, and offers to help hang her clothes out so they dry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stevie pens a letter to Bucky three times. She burns all three. No, she doesn't want to talk about it.

 

 

 

 

 

"Troops, fall in!"

Stevie says a silent prayer, and stops abruptly. Her lungs feel like they're on fire. She's sucking in breath after breath, gasping for precious air. She rests her hands on her knees, and brushes away some of the sweat on her forehead. They're barely half way through the run, she doesn't know why they've stopped.

They've stopped by the side of the track. They're by a large rock, huge and mossy. It has large cracks in it, split from side to side. It's obviously been around a long time, weathered and practically growing out the ground.

"You see this rock?" the Corporoal in charge shouts. He plucks a pin out of his pocket and drops it into the crack in the rock. "Anyone who can retrieve the pin, gets a ride home with Agent Carter! No one has ever been able to break that rock!"

Stevie sometimes wonders how the male gender haven't gone exinct.

The recruits fall on the rock like rabid wolves. Some kick the rock, some try to pick it up. Hodge grabs another rock and tries to smash it open. Once it becomes apparent this isn't going to work, they try to shove their hands in the pantently too small crack.

Stevie would laugh but there's no air in her lungs. She settles for a half chuckle half wheeze, which makes her look like a donkey having an asthma attack.

Soon the recruits realise the rock is too old and strong to break. They petulantly kick it one more time, then fall him.

Stevie cocks her head to one side, and bites her lip.

"Rogers, fall in!"

She slips off her dog tags, the hollow in her neck feeling berefit from the loss of cool metal.

"Rogers, FALL IN!"

She slips the dog tags through the gap in the rock, the thin metal easily passing through. Carefully, she uses the metal to roll the pin along the crack. The pin turns once, then twice, then three times. Stevie holds out her hand, and the metal pushes the pin out the gap straight into her hand.

Stevie closes her palm and stands up, slipping the dog tags back over her neck. She hands the Corporal the pin, then swings herself into the back of the truck.

Carter turns around and grins at her. "No ditch water this time?"

Stevie laughs. "No chlorine either."

 

 

 

 

 

 

They feed you pretty well in the army, but right now Stevie has a face full of _dirt_.

She looks up briefly to see Dr Erskine talking to Colonel Phillips. It's strange seeing the Doctor in his clean white coat and silver glasses, surrounded by sweaty, dirty men on a sweaty, dirty army base.

Stevie hadn't realised he was here, but she's trying very hard not to collapse on the ground again, so she'll talk to him later.

"Grenade!"

Stevie sees the small, round object fall from the sky and reacts instinctively. She dashes forward, feet skidding and kicking up dust. She drops and curls her body around it, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Get back, get back!"

Nothing happens.

Stevie glances around, and slowly uncurls herself. It was a knee jerk reaction, she was doing it before she even realized, but maybe she did the wrong thing. Everyone else is hiding or crouched down.

"It was a dummy grenade!" someone shouts and Stevie flushes with humiliation. Oops.

Dr Erskine is smiling, something unreadable in his eyes. Phillips is as stony as ever.

Stevie gets the impression she passed another test.


	7. I'll take them down, take them down and open up the door for you

They go sit in one of the empty training rooms, the late evening sunlight streaming through the windows.

“So, how is army life treating you?” Dr Erskine asks in his accented tone. He is in a white, lab coat and he looks even more tired than he was last time.

“It’s good, different but good,” Stevie replies easily, folding her hands in her lap and pushing back a stray hair.

Dr Erskine leans forward, hands on his knees. “I have come to tell you that tomorrow we will begin the procedure to turn you into, how does the Colonel put it, a super soldier.”

Stevie leans forward too, heart thumping erratically. “You haven’t really explained your work, or what you’re going to do?”

Dr Erskine nods, and pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Many people forget that the first country the Nazis invaded was their own. You forget my people’s lives had been very hard for a long time. Then Hitler comes along, with the marching and the banners and people-“

He trails off, gesturing with his hands helplessly. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“Hitler is obsessed with occult powers, superstition, legends. One of his right hand men, Johann Schmitt, also shares this fixation.”

A shudder goes through Erskine and he takes off his glasses and polishes them. Stevie guesses this is a nervous tic.

“So Schmidt, he hears of my work. He demands that I perform the procedure on him. However it is not ready, it still needs work. I tell this to Schmidt, I tell him no, it is too dangerous.”

Erskine shakes his head, eyes reliving a distant memory. “Schmidt, he does not care. He believes he can become a- a God! He does it anyway and injects himself with the serum.”

“This serum, it enhances you. All of you. Good men become great, bad men-“

“Become worse,” Stevie finishes for him, shaking her head. “What happened to him?”

Erskine glances up sharply, gaze grave. “He became the monster he always wanted.”

Stevie shuffles nervously, hands playing with the end of her plait. In her mind’s eye she sees a crazed man, injecting himself with a potential poison. She shudders.

“So, what about me? What will the serum do to me?” Stevie asks nervously. She’s read Frankenstein, mainly because she admired Mary Shelley, and she doesn’t need to end up living that story. 

Dr Erskine smiles, and pats her knee. “The serum will not disfigure you, Schmidt took it before he was ready, spurred by greed and vengeance. The serum will not have the same effect on you.”

“Okay, well that’s a slight relief,” Stevie smiles. She pauses. “Can I ask you a question?”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer before she speaks again. “Why me?”

“I suppose that is the only question that matters,” Erskine sighs. 

“In Germany, the Fuehrer gives women medals for child bearing. He breeds Aryan girls like cattle, and he practises the three K’s. In your language, the three K’s are translated into church, children and kitchen. That is the roles he has for them.”

Stevie feels like an utter worm. She sighs miserably, and slumps in her chair. “So I’m a whiny brat? Gosh, I must look so conceited to you.”

Erskine blinks at her, and shakes his head. “No, that is not what I mean.”

He reaches out and squeezes her hand once. “I see a woman faced with half that oppression, who stands up not only for herself but for others.”

“You give me hope, Stephanie Rogers.” 

Stevie smiles as warmth spreads through her. She ducks her head, and looks up at Erskine. “Thank you. But how did you get the army to agree?" 

Erskine snorts and shakes his head. "The army, they hear of Schmidt. They say it is too dangerous, they will not risk their own men. Find a weak, tiny man who is worth nothing. Or better yet a meek, docile woman. They wanted you to be a test run, so as not too waste their own soldiers."

Stevie smirks slightly. "You realise no one has ever referred to me as 'meek' or 'docile'? Unless Bucky wanted a kick in the shin."

Erskine smirks back. "I'm afraid my American was not good enough to understand them. They said 'lab rat', but I heard 'person'."

"Well, I'll work on my meekness," Stevie jokes, and they both laugh. Rays of sunshine spill onto the floor giving the room a soft glow.

Dr Erskine gives her a tired smile. “Stephanie, you must promise me something."

“What is it?”

“Whatever happens tomorrow, you stay the good person you are,” he says, serious and sombre.

Stevie nods, puzzled, but acquiesces anyway. Erskine bows his head respectfully, then makes his way to the door. He pauses and looks back.

“Stephanie, there is one thing. The serum may change your appearance slightly.”

Stevie scrabbles to her feet, worse case scenarios flashing through her mind. “What do you mean?”

“Not into a monster, Miss Rogers,” Erskine dismisses. There is a curious look in his eyes that Stevie can’t decipher. “Like I said, good becomes great.”

With that, he exits, leaving Stevie alone with her befuddlement. 

 

The next morning all Stevie can think about is the time she went on the Cyclone at Coney Island. Bucky, because he is the bane of her existence, had dared her to do it.

Therefore, with all the maturity and sophistication of an 18 year old, Stephanie couldn’t duck out a dare.

She came off the Cyclone, and was promptly sick in the nearest waste bin. It was and still is the most humiliating experience of her life, including the towel incident, the ditch incident and the Hodge-tripping-her-into-the-dirt-on-her-first-day incident.

Actually, Bucky was pretty nice about it. He rubbed her on the back and tried to say soothing words in her ears. It was mainly “It’s okay,” and “There’s no sick in your hair, that’s good right?” but he was trying, bless him.

Right now Stevie’s stomach feels like it did when she did that double loop. She straightens her uniform and clenches her fists to stop herself trembling. 

She climbs into the car, a black Buick 8 with a tan roof. It’s a gorgeous vehicle, and any other day she would admire it, but right now it doesn’t hold her attention.

She slides onto the black leather seats and smiles at Agent Carter. She’s coming too, and Stevie’s grateful for a familiar face. She glances out the window and is surprised to recognize a small bakery they pass.

“Hey I know this neighborhood,” she announces, “I got thrown out of that enlistment office there, and some guys called me a floozy there, and I got hassled behind that dinner.”

Agent Carter looks at her, shocked. Stevie sucks at small talk. “You never ran away?”

“If you keep running, you never stop,” she shrugs, “You push back, stand up for yourself, they gotta stop some time, right?”

Carter nods. “I know a little what it’s like to have every door shut in your face. I never thought of joining up though.”

She glances at Stevie. "Did all of the men treat you like that?"

"Well, men weren't exactly lining up to dance with me," Stevie replies.

"You must have danced?" Carter asks, and her velvety brown eyes are sad.

"No, I was solid wall flower material. I had a friend who always wanted to double date, but they never worked out."

Stevie stares unseeing out the window, as they pass grey streets. She said "had a friend." She's already using past tense.

Bucky is not dead. She can't start thinking of all the awful things that could be happening right now, because then she'll lose it.

She shakes her head slighty, pushes the dark thoughts away and turns back to Agent Carter.

"I guess I'm just waiting for the right partner," she beams cheerfully.

They both know she's putting on a front, but neither of them say anything. Stevie is immensely grateful for that.

The car pulls up on a quiet Brooklyn street. Confused, Stevie follows Carter into an old antique shop. It’s dusty, with dark walls, shelves with china dolls and clocks that no longer work.

An elderly woman shares an exchange with Agent Carter, and Stevie belatedly realises that the little, old woman is actually an agent working for the army.

That is simultaneously disturbing and impressive.

Stevie follows Carter past the vintage scarves, the animal figurines, and the faded carpets to a small door concealed at the back.

“Ready for this?” Carter asks, as she reaches for the handle. 

Stevie takes a deep breath, nods, and follows Carter through the door.


	8. Who's strong and brave?

The room looks something out a science fiction movie.

Stevie has seen ‘Ali Baba Goes To Town’ and if she wakes up and this is all a dream and she is a tramp, she is going to hit something.

The room is large and spacious, almost like an amphitheatre. There are seats up at the top behind a glass screen and Stevie can see journalists and army officers perched on chairs.

Advanced technology is carefully positioned, wires, keyboards and dials. Something that looks like a car dashboard, only that’s a generic description. This dashboard has thousands of buttons and switches, with complicated theories and algorithms.

There is a medical bed with metal restraints that Stevie can see will rotate and pull up. A glance to the left reveals needles neatly stacked in containers, already pumped with turquoise liquid.

“Miss Rogers, it is good to see you,” Dr Erskine greets her. His face is a blend of apprehension and animation. He shakes Stevie’s hand, and his palm is clammy.

“This is Howard Stark,” he says, and gestures to a black haired men who looks up from the enhanced keyboard.

Howard Stark has messy, black hair and calculating, brown eyes. He looks - distant. Unengaged. As if his work is so engrossing, that people aren’t more than another stimulus that requires an appropriate response.

“This the kid?” he drawls, and Stevie’s asshole assessment is complete.

Stevie purses her lips, looks down once, then back up. The fact she’s about to be vaccinated and medically enhanced by this men, is the only reason she doesn’t give a snappy retort.

Agent Carter wishes Stevie good luck and heads up to sit in the viewing area. Dr Erskine gestures for her to lie down on the medical bed, so she does, sheets cool at her back.

She tries not to flinch, as the metal restraints are clamped around her wrists and torso. Dr Erskine is talking, but she all she hears is buzzing as she fights the flock of butterflies in her stomach.

Suddenly, she feels a small prick of pain, like a bee sting in her arm. She looks down at the needles.

“That wasn’t so bad,” she offers hopefully.

“That was penicillin.”

Oh.

Another round of inoculations are given, and she hisses, because the pain is numbing, dreadful, she can still feel them going in.

The bed rotates up, and into a metal container. Stevie swallows. She is held in place by the restraints, and there’s maybe three inches of space in front of her. She’s too short for gap at the top, so she blinks madly in the darkened gloom.

“Stephanie, are you okay?” comes Erskine’s voice from outside, and there’s a rap on the door.

“You wanna hurry up? I’m getting my hair done at 5.”

Erskine chuckles, and gives Mr Stark an order.

The pain slams into her.

It ripples through her body, pulses of agony. It feels as every single muscle, every bone, every cell is being ripped apart. Flashes of fire burn her skin, and she can’t pull, can’t escape, can’t get out.

The torture heightens. It feels like knives scraping under her skin, jagged glass forced into her bones. Stephanie screams, she can’t help it, it’s torn from her throat.

Dimly she hears someone shout, “Turn it off!” and “Shut it down!” and her brain battles against the white-hot fever.

“No! No! I can do this!” she cries, a deep part of her knowing the words must be spoken.

There’s a pause, and then the pain is riding her again, hard and unforgiving. She can’t breath, can’t speak, can’t do anything, just closes her eyes and pray.

The wave of torment crashes into her, pulling her under, and she has to do this, she has to do this, she has to-

The door opens.

Stevie blinks like a newborn deer in the light. The pain is gone, settling back into her muscles, like air in your lungs after holding your breath.

She feels a glowing warmth spreading through her entire body, dancing through her veins. She can feel the power in her muscles, unsheathed and coiled like a panther ready to strike. There's a soft thrumming in her blood, golden and soothing.

She doesn't even realise she's stumbled until strong arms clasp her. Everything snaps back like a rubber band pulled too tight. People are shouting, voices loud and abrasive.

"Are you okay?" Agent Carter asks, and she's clutching Stevie's arm so Stevie doesn't fall. She hands her a jumper, and Stevie guesses her shirt is ripped. She looks down down at her stomach and-

-wow.

Taut, golden muscles. Stevie has never been fat, but her body is now toned and lean, strong but feminine. A well developed weapon. She can't tear her eyes away.

Dr Erskine is on her other side, speaking in low soft tones. "Stephanie, the procedure worked, are you okay?"

Stevie grins at him, and her throat closes up. She feels...incredible, and she let's out this choke little laugh. "I can't-" she begins, then someone hands her a mirror and all thoughts stop.

The woman looking back is not Stephanie Rogers.

Her hair is a honey blonde, tumbling in perfect curls down her shoulders. Her features are feminine and delicate, slim nose and pink lips, with the most gorgeous cheekbones Stevie has seen. Her eyes are a beautiful blue, with long lashes that rest on her cheeks. Her skin flawless and practically glowing.

Who is this beautiful woman?

Then Stevie looks closer.

Her eyes are the same colour as Stevie's, the only feature she ever liked about herself. Her brow is wrinkled into a frown, the one Stevie gets whenever Bucky brags about his conquests. The woman in the mirror is biting her bottom lip with straight, white teeth just - just like Stevie does.

It's Stevie, with the layers of misery and crushed dreams and bittterness wiped away. It's Stevie, but with every feature highlighted and enhanced.

Stevie turns to Dr Erskine fingertips touching her face in wonder. "How did you-?" she breathes.

Erskine smiles knowingly and says gently "Whatever is good, becomes great."

Stevie grins, blinking back tears and opens her mouth to answer, which is when the vibration rocks the room, and a single gun shot rings in the air.

Dr Erskine crumples to the floor, a crimson rose blooming across his chest.


	9. Bucky, blanket forts and shadow animals

It’s as though time slows down. Stevie watches in horror as the Dr Erskine’s legs crumble beneath him, as the blood seeps through his white shirt, bright, bright red.

She crouches down next to him, feeling his pulse, putting an ear to his chest. “Please, please,” she murmurs, “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Dr Erskine lifts one arm and it’s as if that takes every drop of strength he has. He reaches out, and gently taps her chest, right where Stevie’s heart would be. His fingertips are stained with blood. Stevie watches helplessly as his eyelids flicker once, then close. He’s dead.

Stevie doesn't know what to do with this choking, smothering, freezing sensation in her chest, so she twists it into the only the emotion she can think of; anger.

She doesn't even realise she’s moving before she’s off and up the stairs to the viewing platform. It’s chaos, agents screaming, debris everywhere, and a door swinging on its hinges from a rapid exit.

Stevie runs down the corridor, bursting through the antique shop. The elderly lady is lying dead on the floor, and there are bullet holes in the walls, smashed china on the floor. Stevie runs outside the shop, just as a taxi speeds past.

That has to be it, and Stevie is on the move before she has a chance to think.

Her body is...incredible. Power is thudding through her, her muscles working effortlessly, like a well oiled machine. Her heart is pumping oxygen round and round her system until she’s kicked into a higher gear. The strength and energy is effortless, her body flexible and supple.

Stevie think it’s the closest she'll ever get to flying.

She’s almost caught up with the taxi, and the driver must panic because it turns a sharp corner. As she changes direction, she sees a dark haired man running down the street. He turns and fires his gun and Stevie reacts on reflex.

She rips a door off the nearest car and uses it as a shield. Literally, rips off the door, as easily as a hot knife through butter. She advances after the man, ducking and dodging instinctively, and using the shield to combat the bullets.

She closes enough to see the man’s features now, his salt and pepper hair, his smart grey suit. The panicked look in his eyes as his gun runs out of bullets.

Stevie launches herself at him, swiping his feet out from beneath him. She grabs him and throws him bodily to the floor.

“Who are you working for?” she demands, hands fisted in his crisp, linen shirt. The man writhes beneath her but she has an iron grip. She frowns in confusion, as his face contorts. He bites down on something, and he begins to froth.

“Cut off one head, two more will grow,” he gurgles, “Heil Hydra!”

His eyes roll back into his head and his body goes limp. Stevie relaxes her fists and sits back on her haunches. She pushes back her hair, jumping slightly at the now honey blonde locks. She glances down at her hands, and they are stained with flecks of blood.

 

Stevie doesn’t even feel the needle go in. Compared to what she went through an hour ago, she isn't particularly fussed. Her throat feels raw, and there’s a numbing in her chest. Dr Erskine is dead.

“That should be enough,” Agent Carter say softly. She’s offers Stevie a small smile, her eyes sombre and deep. The nurse nods and leaves.

Stevie sighs and swings her legs around so they dangle off the bed. The delicate ankles and the slender calves that hide extraordinary strength do not look like hers. She knows there is no chance of carrying on Dr Erskine’s work without him; her blood is the only key but even then it could take years.

“He would be glad if it was you, if it could only happen once,” Agent Carter utters. Stevie glances up at her and she nods, dark eyes sympathetic.

“Thanks Agent Carter,” Stevie says quietly.

“Call me Peggy,” she says, and Stevie smiles for the first time in an hour because Age- Peggy is trying so hard to make her feel a little less lost. It’s weak and it wavers, but for a few brief seconds her lips tilt up.

Stevie pushes herself up from the medical bed and they make their way to the door. She can hear Colonel Phillips before she sees him, shouting at another General.

“Do we have any leads?” the other General demands. Colonel Phillips snorts and shakes his head.

“It’s Hydra. They’re lead by Johann Schmidt, they wanted to use the super serum to create their own army of the God’s. We have an idea where their bases are, we’re assembling an unit now.”

“Sir, if you’re going after Schmidt then I want in,” Stevie interjects. Colonel Phillips looks her up and down and rolls his eyes.

“Rogers, you’re staying here and learning how to paint your nails Passion Fruit Purple,” he dismisses.

“What are you talking about?” Stevie snaps, heat flooding through her and anger bleeding into her tone. “The super serum worked!”

Colonel Phillips regards her coolly. “You were a test run Rogers, now there's no chance of continuing these work with actual soldiers. I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough.”

Stevie feels as if she’s been punched in the stomach. Colonel Phillips walks away, and Stevie closes her eyes.

She’s not enough. Even now with the serum and all it’s done she’s not enough. She’s always going to be the ugly orphan from down town Brooklyn.

Her parents would be so ashamed.

“Excuse me, Miss Roger?”

A small, portly man with slicked back dark hair has walked over to her. He’s in a dark, blue suit and he’s applied too much aftershave. He’s looking at Stevie in wonder, eyes travelling up and down her body.

“Yes?” Stevie asks icily. She’s unsure how to react to this attention and after everything today she defaults to anger.

The man beams. “Senator Brandt. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shakes Stevie’s hand, and holds on for a little too long.

“How would you like to serve your country on the greatest battlefield of the war?”

“It’s all I want,” Stevie replies automatically. She frowns, and adjusts her jacket around her shoulders.

“Paper,” Senator Brandt demands, and snaps his fingers. To Stevie's amazement, a man scurries up and passes Brant a paper. That’s so amusing, that Stevie has to smirk.

On the front of the paper is a picture of Stevie when she was in pursuit of the Hydra agent. Admittedly, she looks very heroic. Her hair is billowing behind her and she’s holding her makeshift shield out defensively.

“The country has seen what you can do,” the Senator booms, “We can’t put that to waste now can we?”

Her first night at the orphanage, Stevie curled up in her bed with her head under the sheets. The sheets were scratchy and too small and smelt of cat urine. Stevie was frightened, and confused and angry and just wanted to go to home to her tiny flat with her mother.

A week after that, Stevie had just met Bucky. Bucky stole a candle and crawled under the sheets with her. They made a pillow fort and Bucky made shadow animals, illuminated by the flickering flame.

Stevie kept laughing because Bucky would go “Look Stevie, it’s a duck!” and it wouldn't look anything like a duck, it would look like a hedgehog that had been hit by a car.

Stevie knows she’s lucky because not everyone has a Bucky, or a pillow fort, or shadow animals. Some people only have scratchy sheets and the sound of their own sobs.

Which is why even though Erskine has just been murdered, and her new body isn't worth anything, and she just wants to go sit in Central Park and sketch for a few hours, she agrees.

“That sounds perfect,” Stevie burbles, and she gives him her best apple pie smile.

She may be rapidly losing her pillow fort and her shadow animal and Bucky, but she did have them once.

Some people never had them at all.


	10. The Star Spangled Woman (or I lack imagination)

"I don't know if I can do this."

Brandt's associate slaps her on the arm, resting his hand for a little longer than proper. Stevie jerks away as inconspicuously as she can.

"The Senator has a lot of pull in a lot of places," the associate continues, undeterred, "You play ball with us, we can help you get to that front line. Now, you're on."

He pushes Stevie out, past the red curtain, and she stumbles, blinking at the bright stage light.

"Who's strong and brave here to save the American way?"

Let's do a little recap.

Stevie is currently in a sky blue skirt, which barely covers her underwear. She's wearing what honestly can only be described as a bra, though she can't deny it's patriotic with red background and a white star over her breasts.

Glad to see they're incorporating that Uncle Sam spirit.

The worse part is she has to wear this stupid tiara with white angel wings on the side. Oh, and knee high red boots but they're almost passable compared to the tiara.

The reason Stevie looks like a prostitute with a President fetish, is apparently she can be used to sell wars bonds. These bonds buy bullets, so Stevie is supposed to dress up nicely and charm people's money out of them.

Stevie blinks at the vast audience and desperately glances down at her tacky, wooden shield. She clears her throat nervously.

"We can't all drive a tank or shoot a gun, but there are still ways we can all fight," she reads nervously off the piece of paper taped to the back.

"The star spangled woman with a plan!!"

 

Screw Coney Island, that was the single most humiliating experience of her life. The USO girls perform high kicks and sing about the American way, while Stevie tries not to break her ankles in those heels, or flash anyone.

Though with this costume, she doesn't have much left to flash. Her big toe and her first two ribs are the only appendages to retain their dignity.

She finally finishes, cheeks burning, and practically runs off stage. She collapes onto one of the back stage chairs, and puts her head in her hands. The associate clasps her on the back whilst looking down her bra, and tells her she was great.

Stevie lifts her head from her hands. All she can manage is "You know the star spangled woman doesn't fit, right?"

The chubby associate glares at her. "You know everyone expected you to be a man, right?"

 

They don't get any better. The tiara still digs into her head and she can't move without something riding up. She perfects her lines, partially because the serum enhanced her memory and partially because it distracts her from the fact she's wearing a red, white and blue thong.

She learns to smile and wave and bat her eyelashes because no matter how degrading this is she has to believe it helps those soldiers.

Sometimes she can still glimpse her old self in the mirror, after she's wiped away the make up they've caked on her. Everytime she hears "The Star Spangled Woman" she snickers, because it definitely doesn't fit, and the woman laughing in the mirror is Stevie.

A more beautiful version, but still Stevie. She likes this version, likes the curled honey blonde hair, the big blue eyes, the sculptured cheekbones.

It's like seeing an old friend, it's like breathing a new type of air, like dipping your toes into the sea to find it's warm.

She'll be sketching Bucky in his uniform, and she'll look up and she likes the woman in the mirror. It proves shes strong, that she came this far and this proves it.

Then she's called to stage and has to pout and strut, and a little part of Stevie slips away.

 

One part of the act, is a man dressed as Hitler sneeks onto stage and grabs a USO girl.

Stevie does not get to punch him.

She has to simper in gratitude, as a burly actor dressed in khaki "rescues" her. One night, the Hitler actor tries it on with her. He has yellowing teeth and a cruel smile. He asks Stevie if she wants to "spread her legs seeing as she's flashing them to everyone else."

Stevie punches him in the face and breaks his nose.

So silver linings really do come from everywhere, because at least Stevie can now say Hitler is definitely an asshole and she smacked him for trying to sleep with her.

 

Turns out it's not enough to dance around in a spangly skirt, she also has to do a lot of publicity smoozing. This basically means let important businessmen, journalists and political members take cheesy photos with her, and grope her ass at the same time.

Actually that only happens once because Stevie kicks the balding reporter in the shin so hard that he limps for the next month. She's all for doing her bit but molestation is pushing it.

They also make lots of propaganda films to show before the movie starts in the cinema. The plot always follows the same thread: Stevie is attacked by evil Nazis/Germans/Italians/Rabbits, she's saved by a dashing American soldier and manages to loose half her clothing in the process.

Stevie has to laugh at this, because if she didn't she feels as though she'll cry.

 

She rips down the "Captain America Now Touring" posters, and pens drafts on the back. She writes hundreds of letters to Bucky and burns all of them. Again. She doesn't know what to say.

She doesn't want to be a failure.

She also hates herself, because deep down there's a part of her that likes the attention. It only takes one crude comment and she snaps back, but she's only human. Everyone has that tiny part of themselves that want to belong.

She tours everywhere, Buffalo, Illinois, Chicago. Around a month later she gets called to Italy, to perform for the troops at the front line.

It's horrible. It's absolutely horrible. Stevie sees the broken, hollow men, waiting for the moment they die. The moment she finishes, she tears off stage and collapses him a chair. She feels like such a fake, such a liar, all her spiel about doing the right thing and she's in tights while men wait for death to claim them.

The weather obviously sympathizes because it begins to rain, chilling, icy sheets that slam against the ground with a vengeance. Stevie huddles up in the brown leather jacket that used to be Bucky's, and tries to draw. Her pencil has just touched paper when she hears a cough behind her. She turns to see Peggy, brown hair damp and curling on her cheeks.

"Hello Stevie," she says, small droplets of water sliding down her face.

"What are you doing here?" Stevie asks, eyebrows raised in surprised. She's torn between happiness at a friendly face, and embarrassment at her current vocation.

"Officially I'm not," Peggy replies smoothly, elegantly taking a seat on a overturned box. She straightens her dark green skirt. "What are you doing Stevie?"

"Raising bond sales by 10% in every state," Stevie replies dully, shutting the book with a snap. She looks miserably down at her hot red boots. She's so embarrassed, so ashamed and she wishes Peggy couldn't see her like this.

"Where's the smart, fierce woman from the army base?" Peggy questions softly, brown eyes sad. "Dr Erskine meant more for you than this."

Stevie's saved from answering by the arrival of a medical truck. The wheels screech against the wet ground as the driver frantically pulls up. Medics spring out of the back and begin to carry stretchers with more men on them carefully towards the camp.

"They look like they've gone through hell," Stevie comments hollowly. Beside her, Peggy nods.

"These men more than most, it's the rest of the 107th. They were supposed to infiltrate an Hydra base, but hardly any came back."

Stevie turns to Peggy sharply, her stomach lurching. "Did you say the 107th?" She doesn't wait for an answer, she's already up and running.

It's still raining and by the time they get to the main tent Stevie's damp and sticky, with droplets of water slipping down her back. Colonel Phillips is standing by a big, wooden desk and as they arrive, he glances at her and rolls his eye.

"I haven't got to get out my pom poms Rogers, so you can star spangle your way out of here," he says curtly, turning back to the piece of paper on his desk.

"I need the list of the 107th infiltration Sir," Stevie pleads. Phillips raises one eyebrow and opens his mouth but she cuts him off. "Please, I only need one name. Sergeant James Barnes, please, please tell me he's alive Sir."

The Colonel's face softens marginally, but he does send Peggy a very dirty look.

"I've signed more of those letters than I can count," he says curtly, " But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry, Rogers."

There's a pressure in Stevie's chest and it's building trying to force its way out. She clenches her fists hard enough to draw blood with her nails, and speaks again, fear and desperation twisting her tone.

"Are you going to send out a rescue squad?" she asks.

Colonel Phillips glares at her. "Would you go curl your hair Twinkle Toes? There's a little thing called a strategic retreat, but I wouldn't expect you to understand that because you're a cover model."

"I think I understand just fine," Stevie says sharply, and leaves abruptly.

She stands outside of the tent, the rain lashing at her face and soaking through the jacket. The horrible pressure in her chest is still fighting, misery and terror and anger all trying to get out. She takes a deep breath, then another. She knows exactly what she's going to do.


	11. Wings And A Halo

“What are you doing? You can’t run to the Hydra base!”

Stevie doesn't stop pulling off her tights and red boots. “Where’s Adolph Hitler’s pants?”

Peggy eyes her strangely. “Excuse me?”

“The guy that plays Adolph Hitler on stage, where’s his pants? I can’t go after Hydra in tights,” Stevie explains to Peggy impatiently.

She sees them and yanks them on. They’re a bit big but they’ll have to do, as will the red boots. The irony isn't lost on her that she’s attacking a Nazi base in Hitler’s pants, but right now anything but Bucky is taking a back seat. The bra will have to stay, she doesn't have time to change so she just pulls the brown jacket tighter.

She grabs one of the USO girl’s helmets and makes her way out of the tent. Peggy follows after her, brow creased in worry.

“I'm not leaving Bucky,” Stevie snaps as she flings her wooden shield into the back of an army car. “I won't do that. You said I was made for more than this. I wouldn't be more than anything without Bucky.”

She barely notices the words, but knows in her bones they are true. Peggy places one hand gently on her arm and Stevie barely resists throwing her off.

“Stevie,” she says loudly, “I was going to offer you a ride.”

\----

The plane jerks to the side and the Coney Island feeling returns in Stevie’s stomach. She hangs onto the side of her seat, gripping as tight as she can. There are bombs going off all around, the bright flares imprinting on the back of Stevie’s eyelids.

“This is your transmitter,” Peggy shouts over the din, handing over a small black box. “Activate it and we’ll come pick you up.”

Stevie nods, and almost falls as the plane jolts to the side again.

“Agent Carter!” Howard Stark shouts from the cockpit, “I thought we might stop off for a late night fondue in Alsace Lorraine, if we have time."

There is an awkward pause. Stevie stares at Peggy, eyes wide.

"Stark is the best civilian pilot we have, and mad enough to brave this air space. We're lucky to have him," Peggy says eventually, expression bland.

"So, er, you two - you fondue?" Stevie stutters, "Even though you..."

"Even though I what?" Peggy asks, face confused.

Stevie gulps. She was pretty sure that Peggy had a sweetheart back home, so why would she go with Howard? She doesn't seem like the type to step out -

-unless she's not stepping out on either of them.

Stevie almost chokes on her own spit.

"No, that's fine, totally fine, you and Howard and - um, whoever should fondue whenever you want to," she burbles.

Well it is France.

Peggy eyes her weirdly, but it's then a particularly violent bomb goes off. Howard has to swerve rapidly, and Stevie pushes herself up. She grabs a parachute and makes her way over to the hatch.

"What are you doing? We're taking you all the way in!"

Stevie opens the hatch and swings her legs over the edge. The wind reaches up and batters around her, howling in her ears.

"Once I've jumped, turn this around and get the hell out of here!" she shouts.

Peggy shakes her head. "You can't give me orders!"

Stevie snorts and grins at her. "I've ditched the tiara, I think we can officially say Captain America has gone rogue!"

And with that, she throws herself out the plane.

 

Getting into the compound is surprisingly easy. She lands in the dark woods outside, and then climbs inside one of the trucks that are delivering supplies to the camp.

The truck pulls to a stop, the whole back jerking as the driver pulls in. Stevie holds her breath, and then a Hydra agent pulls the door open.

He's in a grotesque black mask, which looks like a creepier version of a gas mask. It's pretty much second nature to knock him out with her shield.

She slips fluidly out of the truck, and scampers to hide behind a large pile of boxes stacked on top of one another. Despite the guards, the shadows are great cover. She easily makes her way across the yard. She pushes herself up onto the roof and runs across to the inside door. Her muscles are singing, energy flowing through them after being cooped up so long.

The way to where the prisoners are being kept is easy to follow, and after knocking out the guards Stevie slips through. There's a walkway above the prisoner's cages and Stevie stealthily makes her way across it.

A guard attacks her and she reacts instantly. She slams the shield in his face then kicks him hard in the stomach. She bends down to grab the keys from his belt, though she can easily break the bars if she wants to.

"Excuse me," a tentative, British voice queries.

Stevie looks down to see a cage full of dirty, tired prisoners of war.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

 

Stevie quickly lets all the prisoners out. There are hundreds, but that curly, brown hair is nowhere to be seen. Stevie doesn't panic; it's as though the soldier part has taken over.

"Are there any more prisoners?" she asks the Englishman, tone steely and authoritative.

He gulps, conspicuously trying not to look at her breasts. "Some of the prisoners were taken to the labs, but they never came back."

Stevie nods. "Right, listen up. Follow the corridor down through that door and take a sharp left. Get as many weapons as you can, and give them hell. I'll meet you out front."

She slings her shield over her shoulder and straightens her helmet.

"Wait a moment," a dark skinned guy calls. He's staring at her like this can't be really happening.

Stevie feels for him, she really does, because she's felt like that for the last few months.

"You know what you’re doing?" he asks, tone sceptical.

Stevie nods dismissively. "Yeah, I'm wearing Adolph Hitler's pants."

 

 

You know how army bases are big? Well Hydra bases are creepy.

Stevie slinks down the dark, deathly silent corridors, shield held out and muscles tensed. The prisoners must be doing well because no one comes to greet her.

As she moves past the labs she gets glimpses of what is inside. Complicated equations, medical gurneys with clamps, needles and injections prepped. It sends shudders down Stevie's spine.

She turns the corner and sees him.

"Bucky," she cries, the words ripped from her throat, the first loss of control since she landed and instantly became a Captain.

It's Bucky, cheeks greened with bruises, hair dirty and what looks like blood on his collarbone. His eyes are glassy and he's muttering something again and again under his breath.

"Bucky," she breathes, and frantically rips off the restraints. She pulls him upright, running her hands across his face, his arms, his chest.

She feels the familiar burn of tears, and the wave of relief is overpowering. It's as she's been burdened with all this grief and anxiety and it's let her go, like letting a bird fly free.

"Are you an angel?"

Stevie gawks at him. Bucky is blinking at her, his handsome face contorted into confusion.

Then Stevie thinks. The last time Bucky saw her was before the serum. He's been subjected to God knows what, and he's pretty disoriented. Chances are, he wouldn't recognise his own hand right now.

"Yeah," she replies casually, "I'm an angel. We have to go, can you walk?"

Bucky stumbles off the gurney and she wraps an arm around him, the weight familiar and heavy. They begin to limp down the corridor, Stevie's super strength helping her pull him along.

(She resolutely ignores the part of her that perks up like a puppy, and goes "An angel, he though you were an ANGEL. As in heavenly beings, ANGELS." You're in a Nazi POW camp, pull yourself together, Rogers.)

They're making their way back when the first explosion goes off. The vibrations rock the floor they're on, Stevie can feels it in the very core of her being, and she instinctively covers Bucky during the second and third.

She swears loudly as she realises she can't get out that way. She's going to have to climb up and cross the conjoining bridge. Bucky doesn't need her support any more, but he's still a bit out of it.

"Come on, we have to climb," she orders, leading him up the stairs, purposely ignoring the sea of fire below. Bucky follows her, grasping the rail for balance.

"I don't think angels are allowed to say words like that," he muses.

Stevie rolls her eyes. "You taught it to me."

"Pretty sure that would get you kicked out by the Big Guy upstairs."

"Shut up, Bucky."

They make their way to the top and they're about to cross when someone calls her name.

"Ah, Captain America! I'm a great fan of your pin ups!"

Stevie looks up slowly. It's Schmidt, she knows it before she even catches a glance.

He doesn't look particularly monstrous, balding with a large nose, wearing black leather gloves. There's another man cowering behind him, with frizzy hair and glasses. He's sweating profusely, she can see it even from here.

"I've heard much about you," Schmidt continues, tone mocking. "The super soldier that became a supermodel."

He begins to walk forward, leisurely placing one black boot in front of the other. Stevie lifts her chin, and begins to walk forward too. They meet in the middle, and Stevie can see how dark his cruel eyes are.

Schmidt deliberately trails his eyes up and down her body, his gaze derogatory, a cruel sneer on his face.

"Impressive physique, Miss Rogers, but does anything else work?"

Stevie punches him in the face, hard. Hard enough that she hears the bone crack.

"You have no idea," she growls lowly. Something snaps in Schmidt's expression, and then pain is exploding across her face.

She falls back onto the walkway, clutching her eye, the punch still resonating on her skin.

"You will not win this, Captain," Schmidt hisses, "I plan to rule this world! I will enslave these pathetic mortals, and destroy anyone who gets in my way!"

Stevie pushes herself back up, dimly aware of Bucky brushing the dirt off her shoulders. Schmidt's face is contorted and Stevie gets the feeling something very bad is going to happen.

“You see, Captain,” Schmidt hisses, “It doesn't matter what Erskine says, I was his greatest creation!”

Stevie can only watch in horror as Schmidt. Rips. Off. His. Face. Literally rips it off, because it is in fact a mask. Underneath is the face of a skull, a red skull with skin a vivid crimson, the colour of blood.

“It would be really good if you could start praying now,” Bucky murmurs beside her.

It’s then another fireball explodes beneath them. The curly haired man scrabbles and slams a button. Immediately the walk way splits, Stevie and Bucky on one side and Schmidt on the other. There is another explosion, and Schmidt turns and runs away.

“You are nothing but a little girl playing soldier Captain! I am a God among men, you can not win against me!”

“I have it on good account I'm an angel!” Stevie shouts back, “And running away isn't winning!”

Schmidt has already fled and Stevie turns to Bucky. She pushes him towards the beam that is still standing, no more than a tightrope across a lake of flames.

“You have to go across,” she orders, “It’s the only way.”

Bucky glances at her, but nods, determined. He begins to cross but the beam creaks and snaps. Heart in her mouth, Stevie watches as he grabs onto the rail and pulls himself up.

There’s no way across now, and all Stevie can see is the flame getting closer and closer. She closes her eyes briefly, then opens them again.

“Go!” she shouts to Bucky, who is hanging onto the side of the rails, face twisted in pain and fear.

“Not without you!” he screams, and Stevie knows, she knows that look and there’s no way he’s leaving.

Stevie nods and begins to push back the bars. The metal moves behind her hands, and then there’s a space to jump.

She looks down.

Stevie is afraid.

She broke into a Hydra camp, and ran away to war, and danced in a bra and tights on stage. But this is different, she’s going to die, she’s going to feel the red-hot pain, she’s going to feel the flesh burn off her skin.

She doesn't want to die.

She looks up unseeingly, breath coming in pants. She looks around wildly, and her eyes catch on Bucky. He’s staring at her now, eyes wide and open.

Stevie looks at Bucky, and looks and looks and before she knows it she’s taking a running start. She sprints, feet pounding the ground harder and harder. Then there’s no ground beneath her and a huge cloud of heat engulfs her and all she can see is Bucky -


	12. She looked like an angel, but I got wise :) she's a super soldier in disguise

The cheering starts as soon as they enter the camp. Cat calls, shouts of shock, raised voices.

Stevie survived the jump - of course she did - and literally hit the ground running, grabbing Bucky as the Hydra base was engulfed in flames.

Bucky had collapsed almost as soon as they had got out front, exhaustion more than pain. Stevie had made sure he was okay, bundled up in a stolen truck. She’d given him an once over, then led the men out without looking back.

That’s when Stevie knows she’s acting like a Captain.

By the time they get to the middle of the camp, men are running out to meet them. Half naked, shaving foam still lathered on their faces, forgotten as word spreads.

Colonel Phillips bursts out a tent, and stops in his tracks in shock. His face is pinched and he’s gawking at Stevie. She gives a salute.

“Some of these men need medical attention,” she says, voice clear and shoulders back. She straightens her shoulders, knowing what must be done. “I would like to surrender myself for military questioning.”

Phillips coughs once, and runs a hand over his face. “That won’t be necessary,” he says gruffly, “Go hang up your tights. Good job, Rogers.”

It’s probably the closest they’ll get to braiding each others hair and make fairy cakes, so Stevie is taking it and running with it.

“Stevie!”

There’s a shout from her left, and then Peggy Carter is running towards her. Stevie is surprised when she hugs her, hard, but hugs her back.

Peggy pulls back, eyes light even though they are damp. “I knew you could do it!” she says confidently. “Even if you didn't use your transmitter, you git.”

It’s so funny that _Peggy Carter_  is swearing, that Stevie doubles over in laughter. She and Peggy lean against each other, laughing like loons, even as Stevie's ribs protest vehemently. They’re probably slightly hysterical, though Stevie doesn't care.

“Let’s hear it for Captain America!” someone from the crowd calls.

It’s a sea of faces, disembodied hands slapping her on the back, shouts, calls whistles of gratitude. There’s a warm feeling behind her breast bone, and Stevie realises that for the first time since she left for war, she feels happy.

 

 

Stevie stands nervously outside the medical tent. She’s changed into a plain white t-shirt and army trousers, having just come from a debrief.

She bites her lip nervously; Bucky is inside the tent. Bucky, who by now will have realised she’s not an angel she is in fact his old friend Stephanie Rogers. Stephanie Rogers who he left in Brooklyn - practising embroidery, not very athletic, and three shades more brunette.

Stevie takes a deep breath and enters the tent, where Bucky is sitting on the bed. He has a bandage around his wrist and a plaster over his left cheek. His brown hair is as messy as usual, but it’s not damp with blood and sweat. He must have just had a bath to clean his cuts because it is fluffy and curling slightly.

His eyes are very big, and very brown and very, very fixed on Stevie.

“So, you’re not an angel,” he says finally, and that gorgeous smiles crosses his face. Stevie gives him a wry grin in return.

There is a whole book in that exchange if you look deep enough. Stevie doesn't need tears or dramatic reunions, she just needs Bucky. Because this is what it is about, Stevie and Bucky, intertwined like threads of silk.

It's enough to just be here, just together, just like this.

“No, they ran out of halos,” she replies, crossing her arms and leaning against the tent wall.

Bucky's eyes roam her face, and she feels something flip in her stomach. Bucky looks at her, and his face is very grave and sombre.

“I have to tell you something,” he announces, and his eyes and voice are deathly intent, as if he's seeing right through her.

“When I was captured,” Bucky begins, and his voice doesn't tremble, doesn't waver, just fixes her with his big, velvety eyes.

“All I could think about was you,” he continues, and this time his voice is wavering slightly, “When it got bad, I would try to think about good things. So I thought of you. Then it wasn't so bad.”

Heat floods through Stevie's veins and she’s trapped on the spot, eyes wide as she stares at Bucky.

“So, what I'm trying to say is I know you Rogers,” Bucky continues, with that lopsided smirk, “And though I like how you...look now, I liked you before all of that. So don’t...assume that I only like you because of how you look. You were my best friend way before that.”

Bucky swallows once, and plays with the edge of his bandage.

"You are so beautiful, Stephanie," he murmurs and his voice is reverent, in awe and Stevie feels his words sink into her bones. "But you've always been. It's just now everyone can see it."

Stevie swallows, trying to fight back the burning behind her eyes. “Thanks,” she says softly.

“Right, now we have that sorted." Bucky takes a deep breath, then apropos of nothing shouts: "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING?”

Stevie starts in surprise. Bucky pushes himself off the bed and begins pacing. “Do you have any idea how irresponsible that was?”

Stevie glares at him, and clenches her fist. “How was it irresponsible? I know what I'm doing-”

“ It was dangerous, reckless, foolhardy-”

“-I've done it FIVE times-”

“You could have been ARRESTED, you could have been IMPRISONED-”

“ - and I was NEVER caught -”

“ - there are dangerous men out there Stephanie -”

“ - dangerous men? You have to be kidding -”

“ - not everyone wants to be your friend -”

“ - shut up JAMES, I'm perfectly capable -”

“- STRANGER DANGER STEPHANIE! STRANGER DANGER!”

“- NOT A FIVE YEAR OLD BUCHANAN!-”

“ - don’t EVER do that again-”

“- surprisingly, once is enough-”

“- please?”

Stevie stops at that and glances at Bucky. He’s trying to be angry, but his eyes betray him, they’re fondly exasperated, full of heady relief. She grins at him and he glares at her, but he can’t keep it up for long.

Wordlessly they both collapse on the bed. Stevie lies with her hands crossed behind her head, looking at the ceiling of the tent. Bucky lies next to her, soft and warm against her side, their elbows touching. He casually hooks an ankle around hers.

“So, did it hurt?” he asks quietly.

“Little bit,” Stevie replies softly, in a tone that clearly says ‘it hurt like hell, but I don’t want to say that and you can read it anyway because you know me.’

“What about Hydra?” she murmurs.

“Little bit,” Bucky answers in the exact same voice. Stevie sneaks a glance at him, and notices his eyelashes are very long and very dark against his pale skin. They lay like that for a very long time, barely touching, but so close in so many ways.

They don’t say anything, and it would be so easy to pretend they were back in their tiny flat in Brookyln, rain lashing against the window, the busy street outside.

Stevie finds that she doesn’t want to.

They lay there in that tiny army tent, with officers shouting outside and trucks pulling in, and Stevie really wouldn't be anywhere else.


	13. He's the Boogie Woogie Bugle Man

Stevie sips her beer.

The five men all stare at her.

Stevie stops drinking the beer.

The five men all stare at her.

Stevie puts the beer down.

The five men all stare at her.

Stevie stares at the five men.

"You are incredibly beautiful," the British man, James Falsworth, comments, breaking the silence.

Stevie frowns and wrinkles her nose. The other men are all nodding in agreement.

"And incredibly terrifying," Falsworth continues casually and Stevie laughs.

"Thanks," she grins, and the ice breaks.

The dark skinned man, Gabe Jones, leans forward. "So, did they give you a magic potion or something?"

"Nah," Morita cuts in, "Definitely government involvement."

"Not everything is a conspiracy," Dum Dum says, rolling his eyes.

He pauses.

"They took you to the Shadow Man didn't they?"

"Elle se bat comme un tigre, mais le corps d'une déesse!" the French man, Jaques, shouts enthusiastically, slamming his hand on the table. He manages to slosh beer everywhere.

Everyone turns to Gabe.

"She fights like a tiger, but has the body of a goddess."

"CONSPIRACY!" Morita howls, "Cross breeding!"

"Er, no," Stevie says apologetically, " They injected me with a super serum."

There's a collective "Oooohhh" from around the table. Morita slumps into his drink, decidedly dejected it wasn't a goverment plot.

"So I guess you can fight the guys off now. Literally fight them off," Dum Dum muses, blue eyes twinkling at Stevie.

"I wasn't fighting them off before, at least not like that," Stevie says wryly, "I didn't always look like this."

Falsworth hums sympathetically. "Don't worry. I wasn't always this roughishly handsome," he sighs dramatically, wriggling his eyebrows.

"You still aren't," Gabe points out, "So knock it off Mr Darcy."

Stevie clears her throat. "So I have a proposition for you-"

"Yes," Morita says at once, "Next Saturday. 11AM. The St Pauls church. Dum Dum can be best man."

Stevie doesn't even blink. "Hmm, I was going to go for a fall wedding."

"Yeah," Dum Dum chips in, "You would look so nice in beige Morita."

"You have to understand there will be three people in this marriage," Stevie says deadpan.

"Menage à twois!"

"No Jaques, the sheild."

"But he could be the vicar."

Everyone laughs at that, because Jacques looks inordinately pleased to be a vicar.

"Seriously though, I do have something to ask you all. We're going to take down the remaining Hydra bases, and I'll be needing a team," Stevie continues, gaze steady.

They all eyes her soberly, respectfully and Stevie gets a shudder down her spine, because that's how you look at an high ranking army officer.

"Well, I'm in," Morita says, and Falsworth nods as well.

"I'm all for it," Gabe says and turns to Jaques.

"Je suivrais la renarde aux cheveux blonds dans les portes de l'enfer!"

Everyone turns to Gabe.

"I would follow the flaxen haired vixen into the gates of hell."

Stevie isn't sure if being called a vixen is offensive or not, so she just smiles politely.

Dun Dum grins at her. "Heck, I like to see any Nazi who dared cross you. Can we get you a drink, to toast Captain America?"

Stevie grins, letting it spread across her face. "No, it's fine. I think I owe you all a round."

The men all give their assent, Jaques kisses her hand and Morita blows her a kiss as Stevie gets up. As she walks across the to the bar, she notices that every man in the bar is looking at her. It's strange because it's not the leering, wolfish look of the journalists and businessmen, it's...respectful. There's still a lot of cat calls, and Stevie doubts that their conversations are pure, but they're looking at her like she's a soldier. Just like them.

That is so...nice, that Stevie gives the bar tender a full blown smile. Which isn't the best idea because he sort of loses it, and resembles a large pile of mush as he scrambles off to get their drinks.

"Did they all come willingly, or did you have to show them the muscles?" Bucky asks as she swings in next to him.

"Funnily enough Bucky, most people actually want to help win the war, defeat Hitler and bring peace to America and the rest of the world," Stevie snarks as she slides a pint down to him.

"Funnily enough Stevie, most people don't like to risk their lives getting shot at, invading frankly disturbing science bases and fighting psyhco mutated Nazis," Bucky shoots back, taking a sip of his drink.

Stevie glares at him, and says "I'm getting married."

Bucky chokes and spits out all of his drink.

"Yep," Stevie continues blithely, "To Morita. Fall wedding. Jaques is the vicar."

Bucky is gawking at her, eyes streaming, coughing like crazy. Stevie hides her smirk in her own drink, but Bucky knows she's smirking and glares at her. Naturally, this only makes her smirk harder.

There's a sudden silence in the bar and Stevie turns to see Peggy standing in the doorway, in a very pretty red dress. Stevie smiles and slides off her bar stool. It still amazes her how graceful she is, as if her new body decided her actions she match her looks.

Bucky, who is rubbing his eyes, slides off his stool and follows her. When  _Bucky_ slides off his stool, it's all lean elegance, and his hips do a  _very interesting_ flex upwards.

Not that Stevie notices Bucky's hips. Shut up.

"Hey, I like your dress," Stevie smiles as she walks over. Peggy smiles back, then glances at Bucky who is staring in awe at Peggy.

"Thank you. Makes a change from forest green. Anyway, I came to tell you Stark is going to do some work on your uniform and shield tomorrow. 0800 Captain," Peggy replies, red lipstick matching her red dress.

"Great," Stevie says, "I'm getting married."

"Ah, fall wedding?"

"Naturally. You could wear red, as my maid of honour."

"Hmm, would that match that colour palette? Maybe green?"

"You know," Bucky breaks in, wearing his charming smile, "The best man dances with the maid of honour. Wanna go for a spin?"

Peggy doesn't even look at him, just raises one eyebrow at Stevie. "I'm not the one you should be dancing with."

She flicks a glance at Bucky, then looks back at Stevie. Stevie blinks her eyelashes and widens her eyes, feigning misunderstanding. Peggy gives her a look that says  _you don't fool me Rogers._

"0800 Stevie."

Stevie waves, and  goes to sit back down. Bucky lets out a low whistle, and just sort of collapes into the chair next to her. He thunks his head down on his hands, and then sits up abruptly and downs the rest of his pint.

"You know, I'm sure she has a friend-"

"Shut up."

Stevie laughs, and pats him condescendingly on the shoulder. She sits back and pauses. "What about you? Ready to follow The Star Spangled Woman With A Plan?"

Bucky turns to her, and there's something in his eyes that makes Stevie want to - well she doesn't know what she wants to do. He coughs, and looks away, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Captain America, no." He shakes his head. "Stephanie Rogers? The girl who says she's doing embroidery when she's really scraping her hands on Brookyln streets?"

He grins at her, brown eyes soft. "I'd follow her anywhere."

Stevie ducks her head, then looks up at him. Their eyes lock, and the moment stretches on, longer and longer.

She can't look away, her heart's thudding in her ears and she wants to say something, or do something but she doesn't know what.

Bucky swallows once, and she unconsciously traces the elegant arc of his neck. She leans forward, or maybe he does, and it's scary that she doesn't have control of her limbs, _but she really really doesn't right now._

 Close enough to see the gold flecks in his eyes, the brown curl hanging over his forehead, his lips-

"HE WAS THE BOOGIE WOOGIE BUGLE BOY!"

They pull back as if they've been burnt. Bucky's blushing, he's actually blushing, and that makes Stevie think of a lot of things she really shouldn't be thinking of. She coughs a couple of times, and runs a hand through her hair.

"That's Falsworth," she blurts, "He's obsessed with the Andrew Sisters."

"Right," Bucky says, and he's ducking his head, looking anywhere else but at her.

"Well, I should go," Stevie blurts and she pushes up. "I have - I have to - tomorrow -"

"Stark," Bucky interjects loudly, "Yeah, the - the shield-"

"Right," Stevie nods, and she's blushing like crazy now. "See you tomorrow."

She definitely does not run from the bar.

(A steady sprint if anything.)


	14. Does anyone actually read the chapter title?

Stephanie Rogers is decidedly unimpressed with Howard Stark.

Howard Stark is decidedly impressed with Stephanie Rogers.

Stephanie has obviously upgraded from 'the kid', because when she walks into the lab at 0800, Howard Stark looks at her like she is Aphrodite.

That is really no exaggeration.

Howard looks up as she walks in and his whole face changes. His eyes widen, and he licks his lips. This smarmy smirk crosses his face, and he pushes a hand through his hair, artfully smoothing it down. Now, for the inevitable final touch-

"Hey darling."

-there it is.

"Mr Stark, Agent Carter says you have some items for me?" Stevie asks politely, crossing the room. The lab is large with tables covered in different experiments, some machines, some blueprints. One tables had an entire array of shields, gleaming, shining metal.

"My special friends call me Howard," Stark says, leaning casually against a table, arms crossed in a not-so-subtle way of enhancing the size of his biceps.

"So I should call you Mr Stark then?" Stevie replies.

Howard jerks back, confused. Stevie blinks her eyelashes rapidly, innocently twirling a curl of hair around her finger. (It is amazing what big blue eyes can do. So much easier to insult people when they think you're a dumb blonde. And then beat them up.)

Howard leads her over to the table of shields. Steve wrinkles her nose in disappointment; they're too big, too heavy, too impractical. One has large metal spikes, another has raised bumps. Stevie trails her hands across them, until she sees it.

Stevie has seen 'Gone with the Wind.' She heard all the little girls at school talking about the handsome men that will sweep you off your feet. That special moment when you see the person who you're supposed to be with for the rest of your life.

For Stevie, that moment is when she see her shield.

Dazzling, polished silver, curved brilliant edges, vivid and blazing metal. Reverently Stevie lifts it up and it's surprisingly light, delicate despite it's obvious strength. Gently, she trails the very tips of her fingers over smooth, cool metal.

"This, this is gorgeous," Stevie breaths.

"That's vibranium, strongest metal on Earth. Completely vibration absorbent," Howard replies, coming up behind Stevie. He deliberately leans over he shoulder, so his breath tickles her ear. "That baby could go for hours."

Stevie grits her teeth.

She spins, and gives Howard her biggest, wildest, apple pie, maple syrup smile.

"Could you model this for me?" she simpers, batting her eyelashes, and leaning forward so her chest sticks out a little.

She steps forward and runs her hands over his arms. "I would love to see you flex."

Howard's face contorts into an arrogant smirk of victory. "Sure thing doll face," he answers, and his voice is deliberately low and husky. He takes the shield from her, his fingers brushing over hers.

"Strike a pose," Stevie giggles, and Howard walks towards the end of the room, striking ridiculous poses with the shield. He flexes his muscles, flicks his hair, runs his hands provocatively over the shiny surface.

Stevie walks over to the gun table, grabs the nearest one and shoots five times at him.

Howard screams like a little girl, and ducks behind the shield.

The vibranium absorbs every shot.

Very carefully she puts the gun down, and saunters over to him. She tugs the shield from Howard's limp hands. His face is a picture of shock, his jaw slack and his brown eyes huge.

"I had some ideas about the uniform," she says sweetly. She slaps the piece of paper in Howard's palm and leaves the lab.

Colonel Phillips would be proud of her for using a pro-active approach.

 

 

"So, what do you think?"

"Guys?"

"Oh for God's sake, is this going to be one of those 'you stare at me for ages and don't say anything' things?"

Which is when Bucky walks in, trips over his feet and goes "Jesus, Stevie, you wanna be a walking heart attack?"

Stevie glares at him "That's a horrible thing to say. I don't think it's that bad."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "That is the exact problem."

It's a day after she got back, and they're already off to invade one of the bases. It's fast, but they haven't got time to waste. Hydra thinks she died in that explosion; they have the element of surprise.

They need to act fast, because if they were experimenting of soldiers at the base, then who's to say more innocent men are being tortured right now?

The men are all suited, and so is Stevie.

Which is the problem.

Stevie looks down at herself, at her new uniform. It's deep blue, with a white star over her chest and then white and red stripes covering her abdomen. The suit is strong, re-inforced kevlar, and easily flexible. It literally moves when she moves. She has red boots, but they're thigh high now with sturdy, flat soles. 

So the only provocative thing about it is it's skin tight.

No, it **really** reiterates the word 'skin tight.'

The other men are all shifting around; Morita is looking at the ceiling, Gabe has turned puce. Colonel Phillips had walked into the room, and the _walked back out._

Bucky, on the other hand, is shamelessly checking her out, trailing her eyes up and down appreciatively. Stevie tries to ignore the flush of heat curling in her stomach.

"I think you look nice," Peggy says eventually, seeing as the men have all lost their minds. "Very heroic."

"Thanks," Stevie grins, and Peggy grins back. She walks around to the front, and glances critically at the material.

"I love the colour," Peggy smirks, and Stevie smirks back, the irony not lost on her that she's finally doing something normal - talking about clothes - in a completely abnormal situation - wearing red, white and blue spandex.

"The material is really flexible," Stevie comments, and she does a little stretch to prove it.

There's a little intake of breath, and she turns to see all the men, completely transfixed by her spandex clad legs.

"So," she says loudly, and all the men jump as if they've been shot. Peggy tries not to laugh. "If you're all quite finished, we have some Nazis to hunt down?"

The men all troop out, and Stevie slides the shield onto her arm, the weight comforting and familiar despite never being used before. She loads her gun, easily slipping the bulets into the casing. Bucky comes to stand beside her, close enough so their hips are touching, the warmth sending sparks up Stevie's side.

"So," he murmurs, voice right in her ear, breathe hot, "The USO girls ever get to see you like that?" 

There's _something_ between them now, something there since the night he touched her cheek, something _intoxicating_ and _tangiable_ and _gorgeous_ , and Stevie is fully aware that's it's going to push and push and push, and then-

-then all hell is going to break lose.

Stevie checks her gun, flips it round and puts it in her holder. "Oh, yeah me and Mary Jo got on _really_ well."

Bucky makes out this little noise like he's choking as she walks out.

 

 

Turns out, the men working in Hydra bases aren't very clever.

When Stevie bursts into the main lab, they all take one look at her, and try to shoot her.

Amateurs.

Stevie throws her sheild at the first man, catching him in the face and knocking him to the floor. As she does that, she ducks the bullets of the two men in the corner and kicks one of them in the chest. As he crumples, she jumps, catches her sheild, and uses it to block the second man's bullets.

She jumps onto one of the tables, flips over the heads of the other agents and throws her sheild again. It's knocks them down like a bowling ball, and she lands in a crouch.

Barely panting, adrenaline pumping, she looks around, grinning. She has about a minute.

Turning, she runs down the hall. There's a loud boom, and then the vibrations are rocking down the halls. They're strong enough that she can feel them through her feet, and behind her is the customary sea of fire that comes with an explosion. She can feel the heat, the roaring flames, and she quickens.

She bursts through the opening of the Hydra base, and throws herself into the air.

It's like a scene from hell; a cataclysm of heat and fire, orange and red bleeding into the sky, ash clouds exploding, debris clattering to the ground.

Stevie lands on her feet, crouched slightly, then straightens up, eyes blazing.

The Hydra base is completely obliterated.

The Howling Commandoes are all staring at her, frozen in shock.

Gabe is making the sign of the cross, Dum Dum hasn't noticed his moustache is on fire and Falsworth is pinching himself.

Morita and Jaques have both fainted.

"You," Bucky manages to choke out, "Are completely terrifying."

Stevie grins. 


	15. Rock 'n' rock survivor with pendulum hips

Life is pretty good for Stevie.

Okay, so maybe that's a little inappropriate because she's fighting psychopathic Nazis on a daily bases, but it really isn't that bad.

The Howling Commandos are like her family and as they all act completely insane, the fact she dressed up in drag to sign up for a war is old news. She's not interesting in the slightest.

Apparently, the men of the world share a different view.

It's the night after that first mission, and they've pretty much just collapsed in the nearest bar that doesn't have swastikas. There are lots of other troops there, army and navy. The atmosphere is light, everyone revelling in the fact they're alive.

The Howling Commandos are well on their way to getting drunk, adrenalin and relief making a heady cocktail, and Bucky's gone to get more alcohol of any kind.

Stevie is listening to Jaques, (well she doesn't speak French, but she thinks it's something about a panther and a lorry), when someone taps her on the shoulder.

She turns to see a Navy man standing nervously in front of her. He's very handsome, blond, cropped hair and smart green eyes. He looks very dashing in his royal blue uniform, but his face is a mask of terror.

"Um, are you Stephanie Rogers?" he asks, knees practically shaking.

"Right now I am," Stevie smiles cautiously, "I'm not spangled up yet."

She's not really sure what he wants, thinks maybe he's lost, when the sailor blurts "Can I get you a drink?"

Stevie just stares at the poor man for half a minute, _because men do this now_. They want to buy her drinks, they want to talk to her. Men are nervous about talking to her.

"I don't-" Stevie begins, but Morita cuts her off. He slings one arm around her shoulders, and elbows her hard in the ribs.

"She would love to," he gushes, beaming at the guy who quite rightly, looks very alarmed. "We just have to finish going over some very important, tatical, strategic details."

The guy nods once uncertainty, and walks off to the bar. Stevie whips back round, shoving off Morita's arm.

"What the hell-" she hisses, but Morita cuts her off.

"Bagsy not telling Barnes," he says very loudly and very quickly.

"No way."

"Nope."

"No way in hell."

"Oh look, I guess Jaques will have to do it."

Stevie glares at all of them. "What are you talking about?"

Dum Dum leans forward, and looks at her very seriously over his pint.

"Stevie, it's very important not to be pressured into anything," he says solemenly, blue eyes grave.

Stevie gapes at him, realisation dawing in one horrible swoop. "You can't be serious."

Morita nods wisely. "I'm sure you're having lots of urges-"

"No, no, no, this is not happening," Stevie burbles, clasping her hands over her ears and shutting her eyes desperately.

Gabe pats her on the arm. "It's a natural process, you need to remember everyone has experienced anxiety-"

"He asked me for a drink!" Stevie hisses through clenched teeth. "A drink!"

Falsworth smiles at her. "Just remember, as Shakespeare said-"

"I don't give a damn what Shakespeare said!" Stevie snaps, face purple with embarrassment. "You are not giving me 'The Talk'!"

"Stephanie," Morita says gently, "I'm afraid men are not always selfless-"

"He asked me for a drink!" Stevie spits, slightly hysterical. "He's not going to deflower me on the bar top!"

"He's not going to WHAT?"

Because of course Bucky would be behind her just as she says that.

Bucky's eyes are huge, and he's staring at her like she's grown another head. His drink has sloshed over his hand in his shock, but he hasn't noticed the drops running down his hand.

"Oh, take a hike Bucky!" Stevie snarls, and shoves past her to the nice, normal Navy man.

From behind her, she hears Morita hiss in a whisper: "Remeber safe is sexy!"

Another time, Bucky suggests they play poker. They're waiting to be picked up from a mission in the mountains. They finished earlier than usual, and won't be picked up for at least half an hour.

It's freezing, thick blankets of snow everywhere, cold enough to see their breaths and to feel it in their toes. Stevie's suit is insulated, but the frigid air creeps down her collar.

They're all huddled in a circle, seated around on damp logs, when Bucky suggests a game.

"Alright," Dum Dum agrees, "It's better than freezing our ars- er bottoms off."

He sends Stevie an apologetic look. He's seen Stevie break a man's nose with her knee only half an hour ago, but he always tries to be courteous.

"Yeah, go for it," Morita yawns, little puffs of condensation. "Might warm us up."

"Hmm," Bucky says, and Stevie's head snaps up because she knows that hmm. That's the hmm he makes before he tells Stevie to jump off the swing to see if she can fly.

"I was thinking of strip poker."

Everyone gasps, and the other men laugh.

Bucky locks his gaze with Stevie. His brown eyes are darker than she's ever seen them, an almost predatory gaze that Stevie feels all the way down to her toes.

He raises one eyebrow, never breaking eye contact. It's a challenge.

"That," Stevie announces, "Is a great idea."

There's spluttering from the others, little noises of shock because normally Stevie would tell them to behave and that is was a irresponsible suggestion.

Stevie doesn't look away from Bucky, and very deliberately narrows her eyes. There's that atmosphere between them again, challenging and tense. It stretches out, heady and Stevie feels heat pool in her stomach as Bucky gazes back at her.

They're still looking at each other, and something's twisting in her gut, and Bucky keeps looking at he like that, like he's _hungry._  There's shivers down her spine, dancing in her blood, and he won't look away-

"So I'll shuffle then?" Falsworth says loudly, and Stevie snaps out of it like she's been burnt.

 

(Oh, and if you're interested about the results?

Gabe, Dum Dum and Morita all strip to their undies. Jaques strips to his undies, but that's voluntary because he either doesn't get the game or just wants to strip.

Bucky loses hs shirt. It is extreme distracting.

And Stevie?

Please. She keeps everything from her red boots to her red and white midriff. Like she's going to be outsmarted by Bucky.)

 

It's not all fun though.

There's a young man called Sam who Stevie sees regularly, just by sight. He works with Howard maybe, Stevie's not sure. He's small, with distinctive red hair and he always flushes when Stevie walks past him.

She doesn't know him, they've never spoken but she realises she hasn't seen for a few day and mentions it briefly to Colonol Phillips.

Phillips looks her straight in the eye, and tells her he was shot down by an enemy bomber two days ago.

She doesn't know him, they've never spoke, but it hurts. It hurts because everyday there's thousands of Sams, a blur of faces that are dying. Meaningless names on bloody tags, a drop in an ocean of blood.

It's the shock, the shock that this is really happening, that people are dying, people she knows, they're dying and she can't, she can't-

She has to take a minute in the ladies bathroom, leaning her fore head against the glass and very quietly says a prayer for Sam.

Bucky feels it as well, she can tell.

At one Hydra base, they find the body of one of the experiments. The same kind of experiment Bucky was.

It's vile, it's vile, this mutated  _corpse,_ and Stevie has never seen anything so horrific.

(It's not the first one she's seen either; they chance upon a lot of Schmidt's failed experiments, and the images stay with her, long after dark.)

She has to lead though, so she resolutely sets her shoulders and does what needs to be done, barking orders and executing manoeuvres.

Stevie puts on the Cap persona, locking herself in this ice, tamping down anything that is Stephanie, and focusing on being Captain.

That night, she finds Bucky sitting outside one of the tents. Bucky's a sniper, and a damn good one. As Stevie watches, he meticulously takes apart and cleans his guns, then repeats.

There's so much to say and she wants to scream till her throat is raw, because how can people do that, how can people believe that, how?

Bucky doesn't acknowledge her, but he knows she's there, just keeps cleaning the barrel of his rifle. His face is closed off, eyes shuttered.

Stevie stands for a long time, then says quietly "It's bad isn't it."

And 'bad' is such a small, pathetic, inadequate word but Bucky gets it, because he just goes "Yeah, Stevie, yeah it's bad."

He lets out a shaky breath, and slowly puts down the gun.

"I'm going to turn in," he says quietly, eyes still fixed on the barrel.

"Okay," Stevie replies softly, "Good night Bucky."

Bucky does look up at her then, and his eyes are less drawn. They both know it's not a farewell, it's soft blanket, a promise, a lullaby, and suddenly the world isn't so dark.

"Good night Stephanie."


	16. The Bartender And The Theif Are Lovers

They're in a bar one night, when some scrappy kid starts something.

They've collapsed onto their regular table - because it's a little ritual now, going to a bar after a mission, grinning and joking, or just sitting and drinking depending on how it's gone.

It's never...easy, and they all know that, they all knew that, but sometimes it's not so bad if you're with other people, and Stevie clings to these times because a little part of her whispers it's  _important._

They haven't actually been on a mission today, they have one tomorrow, only the arrived here early to prepare. The men are very excited, because they actually get to stay in a hotel tonight instead of the uncomfortable army barracks

Everyone is cooing over how Stevie ran through a wall of fire, (it wasn't like- okay, it was  _just_  like that, but she is a super soldier,) when someone taps her on the back.

He's a kid, no more than 17, and Stevie would bet her hot red boots that he lied on his enlistment form. She can smell the beer on him. His shifty eyes are brash and zealous, and then he opens his mouth.

"You're Captain America?" he sneers, "Jesus, what a freak."

Everyone goes very still.

The Howling Commandos all rise, and Bucky pushes back his chair. His eyes are dark and dangerous, and Stevie grabs his wrist to stop him moving forward.

"And you're too young to be in this war, and too immature to understand the sacrifice brave men are making," Stevie bites off icily. "Go home, little boy."

There's a mumer of "here, here", from the bar, and lots of men raise their glasses at her. Stevie smiles grimly; she's not particularly hurt, the kid's an idiot, and it doesn't really seem to matter anymore.

She turns back to Bucky, who is very still, like a dog that's seen a rabbit. His face is dark and she's reaching out before she knows it.

"Bucky-"

Behind her, the kid says very clearly "What a  **whore.** "

Shit.

Stevie barely has time to say "Bucky do-" when Bucky turns and punches the kid in the face.

Then - and she'll never understand the male gender, she really won't - it dissolves into a full out bar brawl.

The kid gets up, stumbling and lip bleeding, and a group of guys jump him. Stevie would be alarmed - she's not completely heartless - but another group of guys jump  _them._

Someone throws a beer mug, and that's apparently a great idea, because then there is smashed glass everywhere.

Amid the chaos, Stevie grabs Bucky's wrist and hisses "Don't you dare Barnes, don't you dare get into a fight for me."

A tankard comes flying towards them, and they duck behind an overturned table where the Commandos are hiding out.

"I didn't do it for you," Bucky hisses back, and their faces are very close now, cramped together behind the table. 

"Then what did you do it for?" Stevie asks, her tone scathing.

Bucky cocks his head to one side then says "Brooklyn."

"What?" Stevie asks, in her best do-not-give-me-this-Barnes voice.

Bucky's grinning now, and there's something dawning on his face, like rays across a dark room.

"Brooklyn," he says confidently, "They insulted Brooklyn."

"No Bucky they di-"

"Actually," Morita cuts in, "I definitely heard them insult Brooklyn."

Stevie stares at him, incredulously. In front of them, something very large and heavy slams into their table. A trickle of beer dribbles across the floor.

"You see," Bucky continues, and he's practically glowing now, grin spreading across his face. "There is every reason to get involved in that brawl right now.

Stevie is about to say something very nasty about exactly what he should be doing right now, when Bucky leans across and  **kisses her.**

He reaches forward and grabs the front of the uniform and **kisses her.**

 His lips are soft and warm, and he presses them, hard, against hers for all of three seconds.

He pulls back, and Stevie doesn't react, doesn't do anything, just sits there while her brain goes ohmygoshbuckyjustkissedme ohmygoshhejustkissedme whattheeverlovinghell fgsjfuekznxbshdhfajdj

Bucky pushes himself up, practically glowing, grin spreading across his face, and then throws himself into the bar fight.

Stevie is completely frozen, as there is a cry of "For Brooklyn!", and a tankard comes whizzing past their heads.

Morita looks at her, then looks at where Bucky's gone, then looks at her.

"I definitely heard them say something about my Asian ancestors."

Stevie breaks out of it.

"No," she snaps, shaking her head, fighting the blush spreading down her neck. "No, you didn't, you definitely did- MORITA COME BACK RIGHT NOW!"

She watches helplessly as he runs off, her mind still spinning, because Bucky...

Gabe looks at her, then at Morita who is wielding a pitcher of water.

"They called me black," he says, and goes running off as well.

"NO THEY DIDN'T, DON'T YOU DA- Dum Dum, Dum Dum what are you doing?"

"They insulted the moustache. The  _moustache_ Stevie!"

"Don't - FALSWORTH SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW!"

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? I think not!"

"You are all crazy, we are going to get in trouble, get back he-"

"VIVA LA FRANCE!"

"La France?"

"Fine, just go for it," Stevie mutters bitterly, and with a whoop, Jaques goes tearing off into the distance.

There's a large crash, and a large smash, and this is more like the civil war than a small bar fight.

Stevie shuffles and thunks her head back against the wooden table. She throws her hands up in despair, as the battle of beer rages around her.

A man's head crashes down at the gap between the wall and the table, smiles at her, then is pulled up again by an unseen brawler.

Stevie gapes for a moment, then closes her mouth, because, really, what is there to say?

 

 

"So, I was an asshole before. So, sorry. For being an asshole."

Stevie looks at Howard Stark, and cracks up.

The bar had looked like a bomb had gone off in it, and Stevie's seen a bomb site so that's a pretty valid comparison. She dragged the Commandos out of there, and then realised she was in so much trouble if they found out  _Captain America_ was in a bar fight.

It's not like she would ditch her men - she is a Captain, even if they are all idiots- and the excuse "we were hiding behind a table", isn't going to cut it.

Which is when Howard Stark had offered to take them all back to base, hide them in his lab and disinfect them till they no longer smelt like a liquor cabinet.

(Turns out he had been in the bar all along, which isn't weird, because he is their engineer of their unit, and that is the nearest bar in the area. Men tend to navigate towards booze.

No, it's not weird, it's sad, because he was sitting  _alone,_ nursing his drink  _alone,_ while she was having fun with her resident group of crazies.

As someone who has been bullied her whole life, she feels bad that Howard was all by himself, and probably has been drinking,  _alone, since they invaded that first Hydra base.)_

"I'm sorry," Steve giggles, "It's just nobody's ever apologized for being an asshole before. And I'm sorry too. I probably shouldn't have shot you."

Howard smiles at her tentatively, and his whole face changes. It becomes softer, lighter, not some put on facade.

Stevie is feeling much more amiable towards him, it takes guts to apologize and he did save them from the wrath of Colonel Phillips.

This Howard Stevie could be friends with, could laugh with. For the first time she sees past the flashy smile to the dark bags under his eyes. Past the smirk, to the hesistant look in his eyes, the guilt that only those who see battle acquire.

It occurs to Stevie, that all Howard Stark needs is a friend.

"Look," Stevie says, "We should go out sometime, maybe get a drink."

Howard blinks at her in surprise, and Stevie back pedals, realising how that sounds.

"Not like a date," she blurts, face flushing, but Howard cuts her off.

"I know," he says softly, "Not that you aren't an amazing woman, but anyone with eyes can see you and Barnes are meant to be together."

Stevie starts and snaps her head to look at him, but he's just smiling slightly, eyes soft.

Her throat feels tight, like she can't breathe, and her heart beat is drumming in her ears.

Because she can't stop thinking about that kiss, can't stop thinking about Bucky, can't stop thinking about " _I know you, Rogers."_

Because it's been there, it's always been there, and she's lied to herself all this time, because it was never going to happen.

But now it could, not because she's beautiful, or men want her, and it's not even because she's Captain America.

It's because it doesn't matter anymore, she doesn't care what people say, and she's done things and she's seen things, _and she finally actually likes Stephanie Rogers_.

And if the serum turned her back tomorrow, she'd still like her.

She's been resolutely ignoring Bucky since they've walked in, but know she looks at him.

He's talking to Falsworth, but he looks up and catches her gaze, and she can't breathe.

Because Bucky is brave and funny and smart, and he protected her when she was little and he likes his eggs scrambled and sometimes she just looks at him and sometimes she feels him, like a throbbing behind her collarbone.

"It's only 8," Howard says quietly, and Stevie turns to look at him, mind reeling.

"It's pretty early seeing as your pals broke the bar. And we're staying in a proper hotel tonight, because your mission isn't until tomorrow."

Stevie gazes at him, the realisation of what Howard is fully saying hitting her. He gazes back steadily.

"When life gives you something that...good," he continues gently, "I wouldn't waste it."

And Stevie gets it. She really gets it.

"Thank you," she breathes, and Howard just nods, and pats her awkwardly on the shoulder.

Stevie laughs again, because it's so ridiculous, and she knows exactly what she's going to do, and it's gorgeous,  _and she gets it._

 


	17. Nothing prepared me for, what the privilege of being yours would do

Stevie doesn't say anything at all to Bucky.

She waits until the others have cleared out, then just pushes herself off the desk and walks out the door. Bucky follows her, and all the way to the hotel there is complete silence.

The clerk at the desk gives them their keys, and she would love to believe it was fate, but honestly, Captain America is always offered a room. She just choses to sleep in barracks with her men. Even if they didn't have a mission tomorrow, she could still do this - take Bucky to her room.

However, in the end she very pointedly heads for Bucky's room, and he opens the door, pushing it open for her.

"Stevie-"

Stevie kisses him.

She curls her hands in his hair, and slants her head, and tilts her hips up. Bucky  _moans_ and pulls her closer, hands on her hips, biting down on her bottom lip.

It's messy and sloppy and dirty, and Bucky tastes so good, a little like vanilla, and all Stevie can think is, _I want to do this all the time._

The break apart, panting. Bucky's fingers are curled around her back, and her hands rested on his chest. Bucky's flushed, breathing fast, and oh God, Stevie really needs to remember how oxygen works.

"I kissed you," Bucky says, as if he's carrying on a conversation, because please, they know each other inside out, and that silence was a  _full blown speech._

"I kissed you, because we're in a god damn bar fight, and you're there, you're always there, and I tried to fill it with Lola Farrisses, but I can't, because all I want, all  _I need,_ is  **you."**

"And I could talk about how smart and funny and brave you are,  _and you are,_ you are Stevie, but I really  _know,_ is that we belong, we belong to each other."

Stevie hits him, hard, on the arm.

Bucky is rubbing his arm, and his eyes are all puppy dog sad, and Stevie says "You  _idiot."_

She fists her hands in his shirt, and tilts her head to see those gorgeous eyes. "I think I fell for you the day you beat up the bullies when I was six. I stormed a Nazi base in a bra to save you, because I can't do this without you, you're my best friend, my ally, my back up you're part of me, always have been."

Bucky's eyes are wide, and they both just stare at each other. They consider how eerily similar their confessions are and then they both burst out laughing.

He's almost doubled over with it, and Stevie cracks up, her ribs hurting and her eyes prickling, and she can't stop, just starts the donkey wheeze, which sets Bucky off again.

They break apart to laugh because it's hard to press together when you've lost it, but Bucky grabs hold of her hand, and Stevie decides that holding hands laughing is **the best.**

"You mean-" Stevie manages

"- we could have done this years ago?" Bucky chokes out, tears in his eyes.

"I hated Lola Farris-"

"- I chose Arnold because he was unattractive-"

"- because I didn't realise-"

" - it was you, and -"

"Jesus Barnes, 22 years and one kiss?" Stevie babbles, and Bucky just grabs her and kisses her, laughing into it.

Stevie feels just so _happy,_ like everything is tinted gold, and she's smiling, really smiling, so much it _hurts._ She looks at Bucky and it's like liquid sunshine rushing through her.

There should be more of a show, loud declarations and daring manoeuvres and expensive bouquets of flowers and maybe a duel, but they don't need that.

It's like they're two pieces of a puzzle slotting together, and they don't need all the dramatics, because it's always been like this. They've always had this but now it's amplified, like the strings of a guitar, waiting to be played.

She has Bucky, and she's always had him, and more importantly  _Bucky has her._

Bucky is looking back, and he's all soft lines and pink lips, and puppy dog eyes (again) but this time it's like he's the luckiest guy in the world.

Stevie sees and she  _aches._ She lets go of Bucky's hand, and pulls her white army issued t shirt over her head. It drops to her the floor, and she stands there in her plain white underwear. She doesn't feel ashamed, doesn't feel scared, she just feels right.

Bucky is blushing now, and to her surprise, he covers his eyes with one hand.

"Stevie," he says, and his voice is strangled. "Stevie, it's okay, I'm not- I don't expect you- it's fine. It's enough."

And Stevie just melts into this big pile of goo, because Bucky thinks she's under the impression she has to give him some kind of pay off. He doesn't want her to think this is just a roll in the hay.

"Bucky," she says, and her voice is like sandpaper. "Bucky, I want this. Please."

There's this throbbing in her veins, this heat curling in her stomach, and she just wants Bucky so badly, to get as close as two people can be. Bucky looks at her, brown eyes probing and steady, and he knows, he must know, because he's always been able to read her.

He steps forward, and kisses her reverently. It's slow and hot and sensual, Bucky's tongue sliding against hers, intoxicating. He pushes her gently onto the bed, and his weight is thrilling, warm and heavy, with all those lean, taut muscles.

He pulls back a second, and Stevie's breathe catches, because his face is so tender and open.

"I have protection," he says, awkwardly, as if he's scared she'll think he's only with her for the physical aspect.

Stevie smirks, and says "So do I," and pulls the rubber out her back pocket.

Bucky gawks at her.

She rolls her eyes. "I was supposed to be a man, remember? They have them in all the rooms."

Because even though Stevie is very fond of Bucky, does she look like she wants to be a mother?"

Bucky is still staring, and Stevie rises one eyebrow, then they're both laughing again. Stevie feels Bucky's laughter vibrate through her. He bends down and kisses her on the brow. "This is your first time?"

His tone is affectionate, protective, and Stevie nods. She doesn't feel embarrassed, she couldn't when he's looking at her like he never wants to let her go.

"Okay," Bucky says, and he gently tugs her so she's laying down. He looks at her gravely, eyes sombre. "Don't worry about anything, okay? Just let me make this good for you."

Stevie doesn't trust herself to speak, so she just nods, throat tight. Bucky holds her elbow as she wriggles out her trousers, putting the foil on the bedside table.

"Okay," Bucky says, and then he begins to kiss her. He kisses her jaw, then trails kisses down her neck. He sucks at a particular spot on her collarbone, scraping his teeth a little, and Stevie whimpers.

He places small kisses down her arm, a feather light brush of lips against the crook of her elbow. He gently twists her wrist, leaving a kiss over her pulse point.

Lazily, he grabs her wrists and pins them above her head, leaning over with a predatory look in his eyes.

"I've got you pinned," he smirks, tone deep and slightly dangerous, eyes dark.

"I could kill you with one hand," Stevie replies, rolling her eyes, and flips him so she's on top.

She holds him down with her hips, hot, taut muscles, lean and sculptured. She presses her hands down on his shoulders, one ankle hooked with his.

Bucky grins at her, looking up through his eyelashes. "It's kind of a turn on."

Stevie laughs, and rolls off him off onto the white sheets. Bucky kisses her on the nose (she bats him away), and leans over her, rolling his hips against hers.

He kisses her on the mouth again, and while his tounge is distracting her, he undos her bra and slips it off. She's completely bared to him, but she just continues the kiss, desperate.

Bucky breaks apart, and tilts her head up gently, giving her a wicked smile. He cups one of her breasts in his hand, and Stevie almost bucks off the bed.

"Bucky," she moans, as he brushes a thumb over one nipple. He slides further down her body, all heat and muscle, and runs his tounge around the sensitive flesh

He gently tugs her nipple with his teeth, whilst gently squeezing her other one, and Stevie's brain just sort of rolls over and dies.

When he pulls back, Stevie is flushed and writhing. She feels warm all over, heat pooling in her stomach, hot beneath her legas.

"You are so beautiful," Bucky murmurs softly, and kisses her jaw. His eyes are so soft that Stevie forgets she's lying there half naked, and just smiles back hopelessly.

Keeping his gaze, she slips out of her underwear, heart thudding in her ears, stomach lurching. Bucky is still dressed, and he slowly takes off his t shirt.

"Buckkyyy," Stevie breathes, faced with the expanse of golden muscle. Bucky lets out a bark of laughter, nuzzling her neck.

"Really, Rogers? When you are the most beautiful person I've seen, with or without the serum?" he murmurs, breathe hot in the shell of her ear."Don't move, okay?"

He begins to trail kisses down her abdomen, feather light on her rib cage, a brush of lips over her stomach. He scrapes his teeth carefully over her hip, and she squirms.

He traces circles on her lower abodemen, then his hand slips down and he touches her  _there._

Stevie almost kicks him in the face.

"Bucky," she gasps, as he slides a finger inside her, and it's hot, and she's wet, and  _how can this feel so good._ "Bucky, what are you doing?"

Bucky crooks his fingers slightly, and Stevie lets out this moan that she had no idea people could even make.

"Making you feel really good?" he answers, smile lop sided.

There's a thrumming in her veins, and there's heat in her stomach and she wants this so bad. Bucky stops, and sits up slightly, hand on his trouser zip.

Stevie watches him, panting slightly, wanting and needy, as he slips them off and then his underwear and -

-oh. My. God.

"This is never going to work," she blurts, and Bucky stares at her for a full second, before doubling over in laughter. He was hovering over her, but he now he sits back on his heels, and howls.

"You've signed up for the army in drag, been injected with super serum, invaded a POW camp, and fought genetically enhanced Nazis, and this isn't going to work?" Bucky chokes out, and then cracks up again.

Stevie tries to say "Shut UP Bucky," but she can't, and then she's cracking up too. They're both naked and about to have sex, and this is the most ridiculous situation she's ever been in.

They both stop eventually, breathing erratic. Stevie wipes her eyes, and looks at Bucky. Her throat hurts, because he's so beautiful, laughter lines and brown eyes and messy hair.

"I don't think we're supposed to laugh through this," she says finally, and everything is soft, and golden, and Bucky is smiling.

He kisses her, lips soft, leaning forward on his arms.

"I'm glad we are, that we can," he says awkwardly, and he's looking at her with such affection, Stevie's heart flips in her chest.

He grabs the condom from the bedside table, rolling it onto his er, length. He settles carefully between her legs, nudging her thighs open gently. He's hot and heavy, and she's not  _scared,_ expect maybe she is, just a little.

Then he moves, pushing in, and she bites her bottom lip. It's feels so strange, so full and when he moves ever so slightly, she lets out a moan.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asks, worry and anxiety in his tone, eyes huge and concerned.

"I'm fine," Stevie stutters, because she is, she really is, and she feels as though she's been set on fire, and she just needs him so _desperately_.

"I'm fine, I'm better than fine. Definitely fine," she babbles.

Bucky looks at her weirdly, "You're such a freak," and then  _he moves._

Stevie whimpers as he thrusts into her, sensation exploding in her body, white hot heat.

Bucky  **stops.**

 **"** Are you okay? Does it hurt?" he asks again, and Stevie is squirming now because the heat is unbearable.

"Bucky," she says, and her voice is absolutely wrecked. " _Move."_

"Yes Captain," Bucky smirks, and that is ridiculously arousing, and she probably has a new kink, but  _who cares_ , because Bucky is moving.

They settle in a rhythm, Bucky moving slowly inside her, Stevie rolling her hips up to meet his, instinctual. They're hot and sweaty. Stevie keeps saying his name, and Bucky keeps saying hers, and something is building inside her.

Then Bucky moves or does something, maybe increases the pace, and  Stevie grabs the sheets, because she's so close now, tantalizing pressure rocking through her.

"Stevie," Bucky cries, and his eyes are burning, his voice is hoarse. He leans down to kiss her, and Stevie snaps. 

She tumbles over the edge, mouth opened in a silent scream as blinding white pleasure courses through her, closing her eyes as she bucks at how good this feels. It's like fire spreading through her, her mind going blank with bliss.

She comes down slowly, prickles of heat slowly cooling, as Bucky comes above her, face frozen in ecstasy. He slumps onto her for a moment, nuzzling her neck. Then he carefully pulls out, throws the rubber away and collapses next to her.

He reaches across the bed and takes her hand.

 

 

 

 

Bucky is curled around her, arms around her waist and his face buried in her hair. Stevie's back is against his chest and her hands are entwined with his.

Stevie is wearing Bucky's t shirt and a pair of his underwear, and Bucky is in his boxers because Stevie kicked him out the bed and made him put them on.

"We did this backwards."

Stevie kicks him.

"Don't try to pillow talk me, Barnes."

Bucky laughs into the back of her neck, breath warm on her skin. "Son of a gun, Rogers. You're mean after sex."

"Only for you," Stevie mumbles, and turns to kiss him quickly. She turns back around, snuggling closer to him.

"I'll indulge you. How did we do this backwards?" Stevie murmurs, sleepy and soft. Bucky is warm at her back, and she feels safe and happy, like a little glow in her chest.

"Well," Bucky says, "we were friends, then we slept together - which was incredible by the way. We haven't even been on a date yet."

He kisses her neck, soft hair tickling her cheek. Stevie stretches a little, muscles warm and languid. "You can take me on a date if you want."

"Okay," Bucky says softly. "When we get back. I'll take you to that little restaurant on the corner, that does really good Italian."

"I like pasta," Stevie mumbles, and Bucky chuckles in her ear and pulls her even closer.

"And then we're going for a walk in Central Park," he continues, voice soft and sweet. "And then we're going to dance. In Central Park, under the stars."

Stevie turns and kisses him, sensuous and slow, trying to put all she has, all she feels into it. Bucky kisses her back, one hand cupping her face.

"That's a great date," she says, turning back around, and burrowing into the covers. Bucky tangles their legs together, tightening his arms around her.

"You're pretty great, Steevviieee."

"You're pretty sappy."

 

 

 

"But you're pretty great too."

Bucky smiles into her neck, and Stevie grins and closes her eyes.


	18. The Stephanie Roger's Type

Stevie opens her eyes to a generic hotel room, with an ensuite bathroom and an alarm clock that reads: 5.00AM.

She also wakes up to a half naked brunette.

Which is a pretty good way to wake up.

Bucky has one leg tangled with one of Stevie's, her head on his chest, and his arm is wrapped around her waist.

Stevie looks at him for a moment, and he looks so young in the morning light, brow relaxed, all the hardship melted away.

Her throat constricts and she very carefully slips out from beneath him. Once she's moved though, Bucky stirs and grabs her hand, eyes fluttering open.

"Hey," she says softly and Bucky pushes himself up, sheets pooling at his waist. He rubs his eyes, wrinking his nose, which is officially the most adorable thing Stevie has ever seen.

"Why are you awake?" he asks sleepily, and Stevie's heart clenches. Bucky is a soldier; soldiers don't wake up and rub their eyes, they wake up and look for the nearest escape route.

Bucky wakes to Stevie, and he trusts her enough to not switch in to sniper mode.

"I have to go back to my room, I have to be there early. We have the mission in the mountains today, remember?" Stevie murmurs, pushing back his hair with one hand.

"Oh yeah," Bucky pouts, and he catches her hand and presses a kiss to it.

"Can't you stay for 15 minutes?" he whines, sitting up with the sheets pooling around his hips.

Stevie looks at him for a moment, then climbs back into bed. She lays her head on Bucky's chest, and he burrows deeper under the warm covers, pulling her close.

"You're so staying for longer than 15 minutes."

"Yeah, I am," Stevie agrees, and they both laugh, Bucky's chest vibrating as he runs his hands through her hair.

They lie there in drowsy silence, Stevie fighting the urge to close her eyes, as the soft sunlight streams through the gaps in the curtains.

"It's strange that after this is all over, we have to go back to Brooklyn," Bucky says after a little while, voice scratchy with sleep.

"It'll be more peaceful," she mumbles, half asleep, and Bucky hums in agreement.

"No," she yawns, as Bucky massages her neck, "I'll miss the Commandos. And Peggy. And Colonel Phillips."

It's a whisper in the night, a secret prayer in the hidden hours of the morning. The charmed fairy tale that one day they won't wake up to the smell of metal on their fingers from guns, to the dark shadow of the next Hydra base, to stiff, dirty, dark green clothes.

"I like Peggy," Bucky says, playing with Stevie's fingers, "Even though she's terrifying."

Stevie turns slightly so her face is looking into Bucky's, resting her arms on his chest.

"You obviously have a type," she teases, and Bucky leans down to kiss her.

He has morning breath, which should be gross, but Stevie leans into it anyway, smiling.

"Yeah, the Stephanie Roger's type," he whispers as they part, lips barely an inch from each others. Stevie wriggles back down, head firmly on his chest again.

"Maybe Peggy could come visit in Brooklyn," Bucky suggests, and Stevie fights a laugh, because he's clearly half asleep and rambling.

"Yeah," she smiles, "And Howard."

"Howard?" Bucky snorts incredulously. "What are we going to do with Howard? Take him to Coney Island so he can fix the rollarcoasters?"

"Don't be silly Bucky, we'd take him to the the Statue Liberty so he can make it glow in the dark."

Bucky makes a little huff of amusement, as they imagine a crazy eyed, hair mussed Howard excitedly slapping on his goggles, blow torch at the ready.

"What about you? You going to hang up your boots?" Bucky mutters, tone half slurred with sleep.

Stevie thinks about it, about everything she's seen, everything she's done, this tornado that has swept up her life and torn it to shreds in a space of a few months.

Stevie's never had dreams, because dreams are a luxury, and reality is all she can afford, and even then you get short changed.

Stevie has gritty palms and nights in a dark dormitory, and words of comtempt in back alleys. You don't waste time on hope, not when there's determination, and anger, and desperation.

Stevie thinks about her life, about the serum, the bases, Erskine, the Commandos, her shield and think's maybe she's earnt enough to cash in.

She'd like an army job, on the front lines but maybe working with Peggy, creating strategies, overseeing operations. Maybe even training recruits like Colonel Phillips.

Bucky would get a job in the army, maybe as an engineer, and they'd go dancing, and he'd make scrambled eggs even though she hates them.

He'd kiss her in public, and she'd shove him off and shout at him. He'd give her that cocky grin and go " _Who cares? I'm dating Captain America."_ And then he'd kiss her again.

Howard would visit, and they'd get drunk, and he'd claim credit for her and Bucky, and then fall asleep slumped on her couch.

There would be hen nights and stag dos and adventures with the Commandos, everyone ending in alcohol, embarrassment and _"How did this even happen?"_

She and Peggy would meet eyes and laugh as the men made complete fools of themselves, then tease them mercilessly the next morning.

Stevie's never had a dream, so she cradles it as gently as a new born baby, wrapping it up safe and keeping it deep in her heart. It's a lullaby, a promise, an oath, and Stevie holds it tight.

She rouses to tell Bucky, but he's asleep, lashes dark against his cheek, mouth a perfect rosebud.

She brushes a kiss across his forehead and slips out gently. He doesn't wake this time, his brow crinkling slightly, turning to clutch a pillow.

Stevie tiptoes across the room, pulling on her trousers, keeping his t shirt.

She leans against the door, watches the sunlight caresses his face, this bland, boring room bathed with wonder and belief and happiness.

She thinks she tries to say " _I love you,"_ but her throat clenches, so she whispers the dream to him instead, fast and fierce, and then slips from the room.


	19. I don't want to close my eyes, I don't want to fall asleep

Stevie manages to slip to her floor without anyone catching her. She has a quick shower and stands under the spray doing a happy dance for five minutes.

When she has wrapped herself in a towel, she takes a peek in the mirror. Her lips are slightly red, but the serum has covered her well.

However.

There is no way the serum can hide her afterglow. Her eyes are bright, her skin almost glowing. The most incriminating evidence is the huge grin that she can't keep off her face.

Stevie feels light and happy, and the beautiful woman in the mirror smiles back.

She eyes her uniform, neatly pressed and washed. She'd left it there before she'd gone to the bar last night. She shakes her head ruefully; she hadn't expected the detour.

Glancing down at her chest, she grins at Bucky's t shirt. Slipping over to the bed, she pulls the uniform on - with the t shirt on underneath.

She zips the suit up and makes her way to the door, as if she has a little piece of Bucky with her.

\---

As Colonel Phillips fills her in on the strategy, Stevie manages to keep a straight face. Reality snaps back pretty fast; today may be the day they catch Zola. Their intel says he's supposed to be traveling on a train through the mountains today.

As Stevie bends over the map of the area, her ears prick up at the sound of raised voices.

Tilting her head to one side, she realises that it's the Howling Commandos - and, yep, that's Bucky. Edging over to a large truck, she ducks down to see them standing there.

It looks like some kind of confrontation, Bucky has his arms crossed and the Commandos are all postering aggressively. Stevie peeps round the bonnet, just out of sight.

" - not going to hurt her!"

That's Bucky, and that is a serious snap in his tone. Stevie sees Dum Dum step forward, normally jovial face threatening.

"We're aware Catain Rogers could break you in half," Dum Dum states, eyebrows drawn.

"But," Morita cuts in, trying to make short stature taller, "If you hurt her, we'll do it for you."

Bucky clenches his fists, eyes dark and dangerous, glaring at them. He doesn't say anything, just sets his jaw. 

"Anyway," Falsworth beams, "How was it last night?"

He waggles his eyebrows lecherously and leans forward. Stevie scowls. What. A. Pig. How can he ask that?

Bucky stiffens. "That's none of your business," he barks, and Stevie smiles wide enough to hurt. What a sweetheart.

The Commandos all exchange glances, then they engulf Bucky in a massive bear hug, slapping him on the back.

Again, Stevie will never understand the male gender.

"Good," Gabe grins, punching his arm. "If you'd told, we'd have kicked your ass. A gentleman never tells, and you proved you respect her."

Realisation dawns on Bucky's face and he grins back, ruffling Morita's hair.

Stevie backs away smiling; her men aren't subtle, but they're her family.

\---

The plan is to catch Zola's train, but they have to drive up to the mountain. When they climb into the truck, Bucky takes a seat next to her.

She deliberately doesn't look at him, but she can feel him, warm and strong against her side. He smells good too, a little like pine and the soap in the hotel room.

She holds out for about three seconds, then breaks and sneeks a look. Carefully, she looks sideways under her eyelashes but Bucky's obviously had the same idea.

He grins at her, eyes soft and happy. She tries to look stern, but fails miserably and can't fight the affection on her face. Bucky grins even brighter.

They do that for a good five minutes, exchanging glances, then looking away. Bucky nudges her knee and she nudges back, and they're about to start a full blown footsie war, when Colonel Phillips coughs.

"Barnes, if I wanted to see the sun I would take a cruise to Spain," he barks, "Please tamp your happy glow and stop corrupting my senior officer."

He glares at Bucky sternly as Bucky salutes, but when Stevie straightens he winks at her.

\---

"You know that time I introduced you to Arnold?"

"Squinty eyed, lover of blonde bimbos, wannabe banker Arnold?"

"Yeah."

"I remember."

"This isn't pay back, is it?"

Stevie surveys her surroundings.

Tall, snow covered mountains in high peaks. Deep ravines with liquid diamond rivers and coal black, jagged rocks. Heights that make your feet prickle just thinking about them.

A thin, black cable that will hold Stevie's, Gabe's and Bucky's weight to prevent them from free falling to their deaths.

She grins. "Now, why would I do that?"

Stevie and Bucky share their I-love-that-you-get-my-humour-no-one-else-does-I-guess-we're-just-that-awesome-look.

Only this time it's mixed with affection and longing and hope, and Stevie has to kick herself to look away.

"Intel just in, Zola is on the train," Gabe nods, crouching in the snow with one ear to the transmitter.

"Right," Stevie says, and she immediately snaps into Captain America mode. "Let's harness up. We only have a 10 second window."

"Yeah, you miss it and SPLAT," Morita says cheerfully, smacking his hands together emphatically.

"Yes, thank you for that," Gabe snipes, brushing the snow off his knees and buckling up.

There's a shrill whistle in the distance and Stevie turns to see the train. It's dark and foreboding, stark black against the white background, like a shadow passing over a sunny spot.

Stevie finishes with her harness and pauses at the edge. "Ready?"

Bucky meets her gaze, a thousand words in that glance, and reaches out. He squeezes her hand once, leather against leather.

"Go get 'em," he says simply, then she throws herself off the edge. 

The wind howls around her, scraping her cheeks raw, the cold numb and terrible. Stevie grits her teeth and as she nears the train, let's go. She lands safely, the impact reverberating through her. 

Fighting to step forward, she yanks the hatch open and climbs in. The drop in volume is immediate and shocking. Bucky drops in beside her, and they exchange terse nods. 

Bullet shots ring out and Stevie automatically lifts her shield, fending them off. There's two gun men and they both dive behind the crates.

"Go!" Stevie shouts, and they both run down the compartment.

The sniper shoots at her, and she ducks again. He shoots again, and she pulls herself in against the wall. She pulls out her own gun and fires , and the man goes down with a thump. 

She crouches down again and hears the second man fall. There's a loud swish of doors opening and then there's another shooter. This one has a different gun, it's larger and looks like nothing she's ever seen. Stevie snaps to look at Bucky and the guy fires. 

Stevie reacts instinctively, throwing herself in front of Bucky. The shot hits her sheild and she cries out because it's more powerful than anything she's ever felt. 

The shock rips through her and she slams against the train wall. Pain burns between her shoulder blades and her wrist twists horribly as the shield is wrenched from her. She groans, trembling as the guy aims again.

Everything happens very slowly after that, as if she's moving through water. 

Bucky is there, wide eyed, full of fear, fear for her. He moves forward, legs pounding the floor and reaches for the shield. 

The image freezes, forever burnt in her memory. Bucky, dirty faced, brown curl over his forehead holding the red, white and blue symbol of Captain America. 

Then everything speeds up, the shots fires, it hits the shield and Bucky is thrown out the door. 

Stevie is on her feet, her mind screaming before she's even aware. 

"Bucky, Bucky!" she screams, and her stomach is churning, her heart stopping, her mind flipping.

"Bucky," she calls again, and, oh god, oh god, Bucky is hanging off the edge of the train.

She pulls herself across, clutching the fragile bar, the wind screaming in her ears, heart thumping.

Bucky's holding onto a bar, his eyes terrified and huge, and he looks at Stevie as if to say save me and she reaches for his hand and is ready to say hold on and the ravine is beneath them and Bucky is saying her name and he's all messy haired from the wind and she's screaming

and Bucky falls


	20. I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming your name

She doesn't remember Gabe pulling her back into the carriage. Doesn't see the army officers running forward. Doesn't feel the bump of tires as they drive down the mountain.

She doesn't see the walk up to her hotel room, doesn't know where she is until her hands clench soft sheets.

Stevie breathes in deep, looking around her at the beige wall paper.

A sob breaks out of her, and then she can't stop. Her sobs are ripped from her throat as she doubles over.

Bucky is dead. Bucky is _dead._ He's _dead_ and she's never going to see him again and he's gone and it's all her fault -

She breathes in again and again, but it's not enough. Her chest is being squeezed, and there's this choking, smothering, strangling feeling and _oh God,_  Bucky is dead.

All she can see if the ravine, Bucky's face before he fell, after he fell, his eyes wide and scared and searching for Stevie. Her eyes burn and she curls up into a broken little ball.

It slams into her again, harsh and unforgiving, like a knife in her side. Her throat constricts as she fights against it, because he's not, he's not, he can't be,  _he can't._

She struggles against this terrible feeling encompassing her, revulsion in her stomach pushing it away, because Bucky's dead, he's dead, he's dead.

Her face is stained with tears, she can barely see, and she sobs harder, weeps uncontrollably, racking her entire body.

She can't do it, she just can't do it, recoiling away as if she's been burnt, because she can't accept this, she can't do this, she can't.

Her ears hurt with the sounds of his screams, and she screams herself, the sound muffled by the heavy poison of guilt and grief.

Someone else has come into the room, stroking her hair, and murmuring  _I'm here, shh, I'm here Stevie._ It's Peggy, Stevie knows it's Peggy, because Peggy doesn't lie and say  _it's okay,_ because it's not okay and it's never going to be.

Stevie doesn't know how long she lies there, time is meaningless now, a long stretch of solitude and this aching in her heart. She's blind with tears, deaf with everything he's ever said to her, every word, every whisper.

When she finally pushes herself up, she feels very old and very tired, as if years merged into minutes. The ache is there, frozen and unforgiving, a heavy weight settled in her chest.

She wipes her eyes and when they're clear, everything seems darker. Stevie wonders dully if this is what the world is going to be like now, everything dimmed and dark and lonely.

Howard is sitting at the end of the bed. He's looking at her with large, brown eyes, face twisted in sympathetic pain. Numbly Stevie notes his eyes are damp.

"Hey," he says quietly, tone cautious and careful, "Peggy went to get some water for you."

Stevie folds her legs underneath her and leans her head back against the headboard. She clears her throat, swallowing hard.

Howard moves a little closer but he doesn't touch her, which she's ridiculously grateful for because she couldn't handle that right now.

"He was going to take me on date," she whispers, her voice feeling like sandpaper, the words hurting to say out loud.

Howard doesn't say anything, just gazes at her soufully, biting his bottom lip.

"He was going to take me dancing," Stevie continues, and her voice catches in the middle, wobbling slightly, as she clenches her fists.

"In Central Park," she says, and this time it becomes a sob, her eyes welling up, her heart constricting painfully.

"Do you - do you -" Stevie chokes, and it hurts, the realisation lashing at her, and it  _hurts, oh God, it hurts._

She can't speak, tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching her ribs as she tries to articulate the impossible.

Howard, and she will always, always owe him for this, gets it. He nods once.

Stevie mimics the action and face contorts as if she's trying not to cry, and Howard just surveys her with his big brown eyes.

She lets out a strangled gasp and it wrenches something inside her, and then she's crying again, doubled over, because  **Bucky is dead.**

Howard reaches out and grabs her hand, squeezes hard. He's crying too.

"Yeah Stevie," he answers, voice clear and strong even as tears slide down his cheeks.

"I think he's safe now. Bucky's there now. In Central Park, waiting for his date."


	21. Better to die on your feet

Stephanie Rogers has been a lot of people.

She has been the daughter of a nurse and a war hero.

She has been a skinny orphan.

She has been a man, (well a man in drag.)

She has been a lab rat.

She has been a chorus girl.

She has been James Buchanan Barnes's best friend.

Right now, the world doesn't need any of those Stephanies. What the world needs is Captain America.

Right now, Stephanie Rogers needs Captain America.

She uncurls herself from the bed; Howard and Peggy left after holding her close and consoling her in silence.

She makes her way to the bathroom, turning on the light as it flickers and illuminates the room. She runs the cold tap and splashes water on her face, chilling droplets running down her cheeks. Her eyes are wet and sticky and she washes them gently. Her hands tremble.

The walls are stark white, floor tiled under her feet. She closes her eyes and leans against the hard wall.

The grief is there, the weight in her chest, the current in her mind, the constant reminder. She breathes in, then out, lungs trying to relearn old patterns.

Unbidden, her mind flickers to the memories of her mother. Her soft hands and way too pale skin, and her soothing voice. What would she say now?

Be brave, Stephanie. She'd tell her to be brave.

People are dying and more will if she doesn't do anything. Schmidt has to be stopped or he'll kill everyone who crosses him, everyone, innocent people, children.

There will be a time to grieve, but now is not it.

She opens her eyes and swallows. She pushes her grief down, down, down inside her. She locks them away, putting up walls around her, encasing herself in ice.

She has to be  _brave._ She has to brave and it'll be hard, because she is now alone, she's alone, she's alone  _again,_ but there are people at stake.

She enters the room Stephanie Rogers, and leaves Captain America.

 

 

People step back when she walks past, conversations stopping. She lifts her head and continues to meeting room.

It's a similar reaction when she enters that; she knows how she looks, cold and magnificent, like an avenging queen.

She takes a seat at the table, the Commandos shooting her concerned look, Peggy nodding at her.

She makes the decision as easy as breathing; they've spent enough time chasing Schmidt. It's time to even the score, it's time to take him  **down.**

As she gets up, ready to grab her shield, Phillips comes up to her. He's pretty inconspicuous, handing her the photo of the base as if they're talking about that.

"This is the base Rogers," he barks, "Way in the Alps."

Stevie turns to him and wise, watery blue eyes meet hers. 

"He was a good soldier," Phillips says softly, face tired, weary lines under his eyes.

He hesitates, then awkwardly reaches out and ruffles her hair. It's obvious he doesn't really know what to do, but he's trying.

"You're a good soldier too, Rogers," he nods, then turns abruptly to leave.

Stevie forces herself to take a deep breath, because if she analyses that she's going to cry. She struggles, fighting against the prickling behind her eyes.

That plan is shot to heck when she turns to see the Commandos. 

They're all gazing at her. Faces a mixture of misery, sympathy, hurt, affection, regret. Stevie steels herself for the sympathies, the apologizes, the pity. 

"So," Dum Dum says, breaking the silence. His eyes are serious and intent. "What are our orders, Captain?"

And Stevie knows for these next adrenalin fuelled hours of bullets and vengance, it's going to be okay.


	22. So thanks for making me a fighter

She probably has serious problems, Stephanie muses, if this is the only thing that she wants to be doing right now.

This being speeding through the forest on a motorbike, dodging Nazis to invade a base full of psychopathic racists in an attempt to save the world.

The wind whips past her, cool air caressing her exposed skin. The motorbike is like a living beast below her, roaring through the trees, vibrating with power. The heady smell of pine is everywhere, though the woods are nothing more than an emerald blur.

What's more intoxicating is the the steady beat of fury, a frantic tempo, one that causes her to incapacitate the Hydra agents that follow her with no remorse.

Then she's in the base, the gates stormed, bullets striking the air, shouts mingling in the disturbed peace. Stevie sees the first agent come towards her and thinks  _good._

The guy swings at her, but she ducks, then brings her knee up to smash into his groin. She swings the sheild, grief and bitterness slamming it into him with unchecked power.

The next man comes and she swings, catching him hard in the face. Whilst he's reeling, she kicks his legs out from underneath him. He crumples to the floor.

Two agents approach her and she slings her sheild, knocking one of them down. She leaps, catching it effortlessly, the precious metal practically humming in her hands.

She brings it up to block the bullets, then darts to the left. The man spins around, her agility genetically superior, and she kicks him hard in the chest.

There's the sound of flames and as she watches men with blow torches cautiously approach, a firey barricade cutting off her exits.

The flames are blue tinted and they flicker in the sun, blurring as if they were no more than air.

It's a blazing prison and as Stevie glances at the bodies around her, she throws back her head and laughs.

"So," she asks, and her voice is one of a fighter, a survivor, someone who isn't going down without a fight.

Adorned in red, white and blue, shining metal in one hand, blue eyes hardened with grief and aged by the need to set things right.

The sun blazes behind her, it's golden light condemning the evil of this place, illuminating the lone hero.

Incredibly beautiful. Incredibly terrifying.

"Who's next?"

\---

Stevie is dragged through the base to what she assumes is Schmidt's main office. Or room. Stevie isn't sure if people with fake faces have offices. It's not like he has stationary.

_Dear Mother,_

_I am well. Today I cross bred a rat and a pig in hopes to take over the world._

_Please send some more shortbread,_

_Lots of love,_

_The Red Skull_

Stevie is aware her sarcasm is running rampant, but that's good, so is the bubbling adrenaline in her veins, and she digs deep, finds the grittiest parts, drags them up to use as a shield, as a weapon.

The windows are huge, clear glass that looks out onto the snow topped mountains, bland whiteness bleeding into the cerulean sky.

"I had heard arrogance isn't predominantly an American trait, but I must say you wear it better than anyone."

Stevie grits her teeth as the nasal voice drifts across the room. Schmidt strides in, skin a blazing crimson.

"It's not arrogance. It's my feminine wiles," she snarks, batting her eyelids mockingly.

"Yes," the Skull sneers, "Well."

Stevie blinks at him, but that is apparently it. "Great comeback," she snickers, and she gets a punch for it.

Even as she shakes her head as the pain burns, she's rolling her eyes. This angry, snarky, devil may care front being put in action.

"Do you know what I'm going to do, Captain?" Schmidt hisses, bending down to her level, face contorted in anger.

Dully, Stevie notes he looks absolutely insane, his eyes crazy, and she has no doubt that he would infact kill everybody in his way.

"Do I  _care?"_ she drawls, her tone practically shouting boredom.

Schmidt glares at her and draws his gun, flicking the safety and aiming at her head.

"The cube has given me infinite power! The power of the Gods. I will use it to rule this world. This is what the serum was made for!" he spits, waving the gun. "Not running around in costume!"

Stevie shrugs. "I don't know, the boots are pretty swell." 

"Tell me Stephanie Rogers," Schmidt growls, his temper obviously rising, "Why you? What makes you so special?"

Stevie grins, a slow easy smile, that has no humour in it whatsoever.

"I'm just a girl from Brooklyn."

Which is when the Commandos smash through the big, pretty windows.

Stevie grabs the arm of the man holding her captive and twists him forward, hard, so he flips on the floor. She punches the other guard straight in the face, but then a bullet takes him out quickly.

"Rogers!" Morita shouts, "Schmidt went that way!"

The Hydra agents are lying on the floor amongst thousands of glittering shards of glass. Stevie swings the shield onto her arm, immediately feeling more determined.

"I'm going after him," she orders, "You need to go help the others." 

"Stephanie - wait!"

Stevie turns and then she's jumped by the Howling Commandos. 

It's a mess of limbs; Dum Dum is ruffling her hair, Morita is hugging her waist. She's pretty sure that Jaques is kissing  _her ear,_ and Falsworth is being very British and shaking her hand.

All at once.

When they pull apart, Stevie is blushing and the Commandos look a bit like they're crying.

"Just be safe, okay?" Gabe says fiercely.

"I will," Stevie grins, and it's real this time, not a facade or a condescending smirk. 

She really has to go, but she takes one last look, memorizing that image, before turning and running.


	23. I don't give a damm about my bad reputation

Stevie runs down the corridor. As she turns the corner, three Hydra agents come towards her.

She throws her shield, knocking one out straight away. The other two come towards her, but before she can move two bullet shots ring out and they crumple to the floor.

Stevie looks up, startled. Peggy grins at her, beautiful as ever, red lipstick and brown jacket. She has a gun in her hands.

"Isn't that my jacket?"

"It looks better on me. Now come on. Schmidt's heading for his plane."

They run together, taking out agents effortlessly. They're like a well oiled machine, Peggy with her gun, Stevie with her shield. Her team are rallying as well, the Hydra base is falling rapidly, Stevie thinks she sees some of the Commandos in the fray.

"Rogers!"

They turn to see Phillips, he's taking out agents whilst gesturing at a large, shiny car. They clamber in the back and Phillips puts his foot down.

They tear down the strip of land, Stevie clutching to the side of the doors. In the distance she can see the plane, a huge metal monster.

"You'll have to jump!" Colonel Phillips shouts over the wind roaring past them.

Stevie nods and braces herself. The plane is closer now, she can see the giant engines, the motors spinning dangerously.

"Okay," Stevie shouts, and she pushes herself up. She eyes the turbines warily, getting sucked in would be a horrible way to go.

"Stevie, wait!"

Stevie turns to Peggy, who grabs her and pulls her back in the car. Peggy hugs her fiercely, arms tight around her, burying her face in Stevie's costume.

Stevie pulls back, nodding once at Peggy, her brown eyes damp.

"I'll hug you once you get back!" Phillips shouts, and Stevie lets out a strangled laugh.

She pushes herself back up, crouches, then jumps.

For one horrible moment, she's suspended in air, frozen over the sheer drop and the deadly turbines.

She crashes back down, grabbing the cold metal, swinging herself into the cargo hold. Her legs tremble in relief at the firm ground beneath them.

It's short lived. As she glances around, she sees large, black missiles slotted into cases. She frowns, walks over, peers at them.

Stevie pauses and her heart sinks as she reads the name on one: _New York_.

She feels sick, fear running through her, entire body numb. They're bombs. They're bombs. And there's enough to destroy every state in America.

There's a shout and two guards attack her. Her body reacts instinctively, fighting effortlessly while she's stuck in a dream state.

_The bombs are going to kill everyone in America._

She fumbles with the controls, slamming every button until there is a click, and with a whoosh the missile is released.

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. It's not enough, they'll be on some kind of timer and besides there are 50 states, there's not enough  _time._

She has to find the Skull. There has to be some kind of control box.

She turns and runs, faster than she ever has, feet pounding, breath erratic, lungs burning. She throws herself up the stairs, praying it is the right way, and comes face to face with the Skull.

He's standing by the cock pit windows, a dark figure against the shining glass. There's a strange cube like object on the table, glowing bright blue. It must be the cube he was talking about. The Skull starts when he sees her and immediately starts shooting.

"You don't give up, do you?"

Stevie throws the sheild, knocking the gun out his hand, and throws herself at him. She punches him in the face, and he cries out, twisting her arm.

She kicks him in the leg, and he releases her. She approaches him and he backs up.

"Tell me how to stop the bombs!" she shouts, but then the Skull grabs the controls, and the plane slams to the side.

Stevie cries out as she slams into the wall, her entire sense of gravity thrown offf.

The Skull is scrabbling against the dashboard, hindered as she is. "You are deluded Captain! You can not stop the bombs! I will use them to wipe out every state! I have seen the future, there are no flags!"

Stevie lunges and the Skull scarpers as she grabs the controls. With a yank, she rights the plane, her own feet scrabbling for purchase.

"That's not my-" her voice dies in her throat.

As the plane had shifted, the cube has tumbled and Schmidt had dove to grab it.

He lifts his hands, cube cupped in them. The blue shines brighter and brighter, Stevie ducking as it blinds her, and the Skull explodes into thousands of pieces.


	24. Lay your body down, next to mine

Stevie is frozen to the spot, muscles locked as she watches on in shock. The Skull is engulfed in blue light, beating around him like a tornado. There's a blinding flash of light, and then the Skull is gone.

Stevie's legs go out from beneath her. Her legs buckle and she stumbles, grabbing hold of the dashboard as she does.

Skull is dead. Whatever that...cube is, it's destroyed him. But it's not over. Those bombs, they're still going to go. They will kill everyone. 

And Stevie knows what to do. 

It's like breaking for air after drowning. Your feet hitting the ground after freefall. 

Stevie thinks that she knew, she always knew, the moment she stepped foot in this last Hydra base. Before that even, the moment Bucky died,  _the moment she knew she would have to spend the rest of her life alone._

Her hands are perfectly steady as she crosses over to the pilot's chair; not even a hint of a tremor.

She leans forward and fiddles with the controls, until Peggy's voice bursts through the air like a wild bird taking flight.

"Stevie? Stevie? What's happened? Are you alright? Where's Schmidt?"

"Schmidt's dead. The plane... it's full of bombs. I have to land her." Stevie replies, flicking the controls until they're ready to steer. 

"Where are you?" Peggy asks, but her voice breaks in the middle, as if she's trying to be brave.

"Give me your coordinates, we'll find you a space to land, I'll get Howard. He'll know what to do. Stevie. Stevie."

The ice is beautiful. Planes of unblemished pearl, jagged shapes in the deep blue of the ocean. 

Stevie gently undos the zip of her suit, sliding out of the arms, pulling down the torso. She runs her hand along the dark blue fabric of Bucky's t shirt, rubs her finger against the collar as if it is an old friend.

She pulls the tie off the end of her plait. Dirty, red tinged locks tumble free, and she runs her hand through them, the blood making the blonde strands glint.

"Peggy?"

"Stevie?" Peggy's voice is relieved, slightly wavering.

Stevie takes a deep breath. "Thank you, Peggy."

"No, no, Stevie don't do this -"

"I was so scared," Stevie says, and her voice breaks. She blinks back the stinging in her eyes. "And you were so kind."

"Stevie-"

"It's okay, Peggy. It's okay." 

There's silence at the other end of the line. 

"I have a date-" Stevie says, and this time her voice does catch. She feels the first tear slip down her cheek. She brushes it away roughly.

There's a pause, and then Peggy lets out a laugh. It's mixed with her own sobs. Stevie closes her eyes, tight.

"Yes, yes you do."

Stevie nods, though there is no one to see her. "Dancing."

"Dancing."

"I don't know how to dance," and it's more of a sob now, and the tears are coming, her throat tight.

A single tear falls from her cheek. It lands, pearly white on her knee. The salty water mixes with the blood on her suit. 

"He'll teach you," Peggy says, and she's crying too. A tiny voce through a machine, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away.

The ice is closer now, a vast stretch of barren land, taking up her entire field of vision.

Stevie clutches Bucky's shirt very tightly.

"Good, I wouldn't want to step on his-"


	25. At Sky Fall

This is how the story ends.

Captain S. Rogers is killed in action, presumed dead after she purposely crashes a missile carrying aircraft into the Artic, saving millions of lives.

Peggy Carter will spend an hour staring at the controls as the line goes dead.

She will move after an hour, tears running down her cheeks, to find Colonel Phillips slumped against the wall, weeping.

This is how the story ends.

Howard Stark will be informed of her death.

He will attack the officer who brings the news and have to be restrained.

He will then drink every bottle of alcohol that he has.

The Commandos will be told.

There will be silence.

This is how the story ends.

On the 11th November 1945, the war is declared won.

People sing in the streets, soldiers come home, flags flutter in the wind, red and white and blue.

The world mourns the loss of Captain America. There are funerals, processions, posters, banners, movies, books.

She becomes the poster girl for all recruitment offices. Queues are around the block. Women begin to believe they can be more than housewives.

Little children have replica shields, stitched blue fabric costumes and she becomes a legend.

Captain America, America's greatest hero.

On the 11th November 1945, a handful of people remember the loss of Stephanie Rogers.

They meet in a small, non descript pub. The Commandos talk of how brave she was, how stong, how kind.

Jaques cries the entire time and he and Morita cling to each other, and then get completely hammered.

This is how the story ends.

Peggy Carter goes back home to England. She continues to work in the military, becoming the first woman to become head of M.I.6.

Lots of children are left orphaned or abandoned after the war has ravaged Britain.

When Peggy is 30, they bring out a film called Captain America America's Greatest Adventures.

The next day, Peggy adopts a little girl called Evie, with big sad eyes and long brown hair.

Ironically, Evie's favourite bed time story is "The Epic Love Story Of James Barnes And Stephanie Rogers."

The Commandos meet every year. They go back to that first bar, even when it's walls are repainted and the name is different and the staff change and change and change.

Gabe and Dum Dum watch every Captain America film that comes out, which always ends in tears but also with laughter.

They all play strip poker at least seven times together, and if it's just a pretense to cry for their lost Captain, they never mention it.

Oh, and they all become founding members of the Stephanie Rogers Little League All Girl's Team.

This is how the story ends.

Howard Stark does not stop looking for Stephanie Rogers.

He feels the survivor's guilt, that the brave, kind, fierce young woman died instead of him.

He will never shake the belief it is his fault, his machines that sent Stevie to her death.

Howard Stark does not believe he is worth saving.

He scrabbles for redemption by searching the dark waters of the ice lands. He drinks too much and shouts too much and burrows himself in weapons, because he is already a monster.

He has a son, and he tries to tell him tales of the world's greatest hero, but it hurts too much to know he failed her and therefore will fail Tony.

It is easier to hide behind his fake smile and booming company, easier to pretend he has no son, because Howard Stark hurts those he tries to care for.

Eventually, it becomes more than a pretence. And Howard hates himself.

This is how the story ends. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**This is how Stephanie Rogers's life begins**

 


	26. I had a date

_Yeah, he can't play a note_

Light, golden and soft, streaming through the windows, soft orange behind her eyelids, jagged shapes, warmth, light,

_he's blowing eight to the bar_

Music, flowing like water, treading lightly, trumpets, voices, chorus, music

_he's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company b_

Stevie opens her eyes.

She blinks once, a white ceiling coming into focus. She starts in shock as her hands curl in crisp linen sheets. Pushing herself up, she looks around.

The room is small, one window, one bed, a desk, a radio humming softly in the corner.

She's in a white t shirt with plain trousers.

Her hair is plaited.

_That was Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrew Sisters. A new hit that_

She didn't plait her hair. She's never seen this room in her life and in fact the last thing she remembers seeing is -

-  **ice.**

There's a click and a smartly dressed woman walks in. Her hair is curled neatly, chesnut brown. She wears a green pencil skirt with a matching tie.

  _will surely be a big success_

"Good morning, Captain Rogers. You're in a recovery room in New York," the woman says, and this is wrong, this is  **wrong, what is going on?**

**Ice.**

"Where am I really?" Stevie asks, but it's not her, that icy cold tone is distant to her ears, because this doesn't make sense.

**Ice.**

"What do you mean?" the woman replies, and her voice is steady but her whole body is tense, her eyes widening.

_we predict big things for this song in the future!_

"The song," Stevie says, and her tone is slow and measured, absolutely certain. "It's the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. They said it'll be a big hit. They thought it would be big in the future."

"That song came out in January 1941. That was over a year ago."

**Ice.**

The woman trembles and then three men burst into the room, holding guns and in wierd costumes and strange suits and those are not like any guns she's ever seen before-

**Over a year ago.**

**ice**

**plane**

**crash**

**ice**

**plane**

**crash**

**over a year-**

**commandos, bucky, Phillips, crash, plane, ice, bucky, skull, hydra, ice, bucky,**

**over a-**

**over a-**

**over a year-**

**Over. A. Year. Ago.**

There's men coming towards her and it's all instinct, rage swalowing and then she's kicking the wall and the wall breaks it breaks and she runs she runs she runs

It's New York, at least she thinks it's New York, but it's not her New York. 

It's loud and there are cars, there are so many cars, and it's _bright._

She weaves out of cars, big cars, shiny cars, coloured cars, and there's lights, there are so many lights, and that can't be a giant television screen-

She pulls to a stop, muscles tense, eyes wide, heart racing.

_Where is she?_

"At ease, soldier."

There's a man, a black man and he's in a black trench coat and is that an eyepatch?

**futuresleep70futurecrashworlddangerfuture70sleeppantomine**

**futurefuturefuture**

**future**

She can't be breathe. She can't focus. It's bright, too bright. It's light, it's too light. It's-

It's not New York. It's not home.

It's not New York  _because he's not here._

She swallows.

"Yeah, I just-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

" _I had a date."_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [óró se do bheatha abhaile](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2030154) by [Kells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kells/pseuds/Kells)




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